It's Not Where You Come From
by KDanceWriteDream
Summary: When Detective Erin Lindsay is assigned to a community outreach project revolved around helping students stay away from crime, she doesn't think she is cut out for the job. But as the course progresses, she meets Robbie, a young girl who needs Erin's help more than she cares to admit.
1. Chapter 1

**I am back with a new story! When Erin is assigned to a community outreach class, one that revolves directly around elementary aged students, she meets eleven-year-old Robbie. While teaching this class, Erin starts noticing Robbie more and more, until she finally realizes what is going on in that busy head of hers.**

 **While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 **I hope you enjoy the prologue, and don't forget to review your thoughts, favorite, and follow the story if you like it!**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

School. Most students dread going to school, spending seven hours a day in the hot, stuffy building surrounded by the annoying teachers, graded papers, and even more classwork. Not for me, though. For me, school is a sanctuary. A place to go where I am able to breathe freely without being judged (for the most part). School _was_ my sanctuary. Until she showed up and started ruining everything.

 **Present Day- Erin's POV**

As usual for a Monday morning, the squad room is hectic. Uniformed police officers are coming in and out with a variety of different reports, some that the Intelligence Unit will handle, while others are ones that we can send back down stairs. These are the days that I thrive on. These are the days that make me love being a detective so much.

I sit at my tidy desk, a cup of warm coffee in my hand. Even as the rising temperatures of summer grows near, I keep with my hot brew. Iced coffee is not one of my favorites, to say the least. On the corner of my desk, next to files from a recently closed case, is a picture frame. It has a picture of Voight, Camille, Justin, and me, before Camille was diagnosed with cancer. It is one of my favorite pictures that I have cherished ever since Camille had it printed for me. Hank and Camille had a pool in the back of their house. When I first started living with them, I was hesitant to join in on their afternoons of swimming. But as I gradually became more comfortable, they couldn't keep my out. The picture was taken by one of Camille's friends. A young Justin sits on top of Hank's shoulder's while Camille and I stand next to them, a good majority of our bodies covered by the pool water. I still don't know how I ended up with that much luck and was able to land in the Voight's home.

While typing in my password to unlock my computer, I am interrupted my Hank's rough voice. "Lindsay! My office!" he calls from his door. Without hesitating, I stand from the rolling chair, watching the men in my unit track me with their eyes as I make my way into my boss' office, closing the door behind me.

"Everything alright?" I ask, once inside and sitting at one of the chairs in front of his desk. He holds a manila folder in his hands, frustration covering his face. I sit back, expecting the worse.

"First of all, let me say that I am not happy with the department's choice in this assignment," he grumbles, flipping through the papers in the files. "However, it is not my decision, therefore all commands are final."

Voight hands over the folder, finally allowing me to see what he has been withholding from me. On the front cover is a picture of the thumbs up emoji that I recognize from my cell phone. Above it, is the acronym S. A. C. Below the picture, reads in italics, _Students Against Crime._

I've heard about this program from Burgess on a few occasions, but I am not exactly sure what it is, or why Voight is handing me packets of information regarding it.

"S.A.C is a community outreach programs to the elementary schools in Chicago. Officer McGuire, from the outreach department, usually goes to one of the schools to teach a five-week program about making good choices," he rolls his eyes at the cliché. "But as you know -."

"McGuire retired," I finish before he can. Officer McGuire had been with the department for forty years, working with the kids to keep them out of juvie. "But with him gone, how will the program continue?"

Hank smirks, "Our _wonderful_ captain has requested that a detective with more hands on experience with crime would teach one of the courses." My eyes widen, "Then, she went one to ask if you, specifically, were available once a week for two hours."

"No way," I immediately start shaking my head. It isn't like I don't want to help, and of course I want to reduce the amount of juvenile crime on our streets, it's just that, how am I qualified to teach the course? How am I, when I have been in juvie a few times, even allowed to be a role model for students.

"Erin, it's not my decision or yours. Your first class is tomorrow morning at eight. You are expected at Morrison Elementary fifteen minutes before that time."

 **Present Day – Robbie**

As quietly as I can, I slip out of my first floor bedroom window, sliding skillfully down the wall and landing with my feet firmly on the ground. I wince slightly, as my cheek brushes the siding of the window, the fresh bruise on my face throbbing on contact. Behind me, I pull my bag out of the room, and close the window shut, making sure that no one, especially not my parents, knows how I got out.

Even though it is early in the morning, the sun is already shining brightly on my overgrown lawn. And, despite the heat, I pull my sleeves down further, double checking to make sure that my skin has not become visible after my escape. I can't risk that.

My feet, covered in beat up converse, pad across the grass, trying to be as quiet as possible in order to avoid waking my parents up. Though it is almost impossible to wake them up from their drunken slumber, I leave with extreme caution.

I follow the same route I go every other day, my mind wandering as I turn down Monroe Street, and up St. Joe Avenue, my mind and body working on auto pilot as I maneuver my way toward the school. I don't snap out of my gaze until I hear the familiar screams of the kindergarten children, or the annoying laughter coming from the students in my grade.

As much as I despise my classmates, and as much as their constant chatter and teasing makes me want to crawl out of my skin, school is my only getaway, my only escape from reality. If anything were ever to change that, I don't know what I would do.

 **Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite. The following chapters will have much more of the storyline, unlike this prologue which was just an introduction to the characters and the story.**

 **Until next time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	2. Chapter 2

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 **The Next Day – Robbie's POV**

I quickly open and close the cabinets and refrigerator in the small, outdated kitchen of our house, desperately looking for something edible to have for breakfast. I haven't eaten in two days, and now, on the third day, my empty stomach is begging for some food. To my utter disappointment, there is nothing, not even a box of crackers, to quench my hunger. Sighing, I close the pantry door, quietly making sure that the handle doesn't make any sounds when it is pushed back into the door frame.

"You idiot!" I jump three feet out of my skin, the sudden noise startling me in the silent atmosphere. I work faster, putting my few notebooks and a solitary pencil into my backpack after brushing away the garbage that has accumulated on top of them from the previous night. The floorboards creak, and in a matter of moments, a women dressed in sweatpants and a camisole, her hair mangled and greasy from lack of showering, enters the kitchen.

I stand there, frozen in my spot.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" my mother spits, getting closer and closer to me. I stagger backwards, only to realize that the wall is directly behind me.

I visibly gulp, "I don't understand."

She glares at me, her eyes narrowing to slits. Before I even have a chance to make up an excuse, her hand comes up from her side and strikes me across the cheek. I continue to stand there, not making any movements, despite my burning flesh. "The vodka. Where. Is. It."

My memory flicks back to last night, when she instructed me to go what her some more vodka from the stock down in the basement that my parents buy in bulk. I went downstairs, like she asked, only to find that there wasn't another bottle to bring up. I waited about twenty minutes to go back upstairs, expecting the worse, only to find that both of them, along with their friends, were passed out cold in the living room.

"We uh… We didn't have anymore," I mumble, averting my eyes downwards.

I don't even have to look at her to know what is coming next. I feel another sharp sting on my other cheek this time, and look at my shoes in shame. She grips my chin between her fingers, her nails digging into my skin. Slowly, she lifts my face so I am forced to look her in the eyes. "Next time, I suggest you figure out a way, to get me what I want."

* * *

"As many of you know, whether it be from older siblings or friends, Morrison Elementary school takes place in a five-week course called S. A. C., or Students Against Crime," one boy on the opposite side of the room 'woops' and hollers, getting the classroom excited for the announcement. "Today, Detective Erin Lyndsay will be joining us for your first class. It is very fun, and very exciting opportunity to participate in. I will let the detective tell you all the details, but you better be on your best behavior."

I watch my perky teacher Mrs. Johannsen speak animatedly at the front of the room. Her bright red curls bounce up and down as she gestures excitedly with her arms, trying to show just how great this program is. While I, sitting in the seat furthest away from the board, slouching down on the heard metal and wishing for this day to be over, couldn't be any less excited for it.

I have heard about this program before. Most of the students that complete the class end up going to this one-week overnight camp that rewards them for "making better choices." That's what most kids are looking forward to. I would be excited, if I were those kids. I am certainly not those kids.

The thing is, is that the program is run by cops. Cops are not my friends. They ask too many questions, and I have too few rehearsed answers to give to them. Cops are also very suspicious. I don't do very well under suspicion. Then there is the minor detail that my parents have taught me to despise, and not trust cops under any circumstances, from a very young age.

I move down further in my seat, trying my best to ignore the teacher rant on and on about using our manners and following the code of conduct for the classroom, rules that are simply there to make the school look good. I turn my head towards the window, letting my mind drift to the events of this morning. On the way to school, I stopped at a convenience store and used the bathroom to apply some concealer to the marks on my cheeks, hoping that they are covered up. When there is a sharp knock on the door, I am startled out of my unaware state.

The whole class turns and looks toward the slab of wood separating us from the outside world. Those happy for the arrival of the program, look anxiously, hoping that the person coming in is the police officer. Me? I'm praying against it.

Mrs. Johannsen hurriedly makes her way across the linoleum flooring, weaving in and out of the desks occupied by her students. The floral skirt that she is wearing swoops along the ground, brushing particles out of the way. When she pulls open the door, a younger woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, stands in front of her. She's of average height, dressed in suit pants and a short sleeve blouse, a gleaming badge dangling from her neck. Let the fun begin.

 **Erin's POV**

I stayed up late into the night last night reading all of the provided materials that Hank gave me yesterday, in an effort to prepare for this morning's class. There are five lessons, one for each week; all ranging from decision making models, peer pressure, how to avoid trouble, and other related topics. It's just the basics to try and help keep kids off the streets and out of juvie.

But now, as I stand outside the classroom door, waiting for the teacher to open the door, I am once again second guessing myself and my capabilities of leading this class. I don't get a chance to second guess any longer though, because the door is opened to reveal a class of fifth grade students and an older teacher with a vibrant wardrobe.

"Hi, I'm Detective Erin Lyndsay from District 21." The left corner of my mouth turns up in a smile, and I hold out my hand, waiting for her to shake it. When she finally does, she opens the door wider, allowing me to enter the classroom.

With a large grin, she says, "Welcome! I'm Mrs. Johannsen, and this is my fifth grade class!" She is practically jumping up and down with excitement. She leads me to the front of the room, and claps her hands in a pattern to get the attention of her students.

While Mrs. Johannsen introduces me to the class, I quickly scan the scene. Like any normal classroom, the students are visibly divided by their cliques, and the groups they hang out with. A few students in front of the class sit at the ready, pencils placed neatly at the top of the surface and their hands folded on top. Then there is a group of girls who sit there with bored expressions on their faces, random notebooks and items scattered on their desks. They talk quietly amongst themselves, even with the teacher giving them instructions. There are the boys, that seem to be looking me over as well, and then there are the other kids, that are scattered through the seats. Everyone seems to get along, all of them except for one, who sits in the very last row, pushed off to the side, away from the group.

Her long, brown hair is parted on the side, covering a good majority of her cheek. She is leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed in front on her chest. She is very guarded, watching my every move like a hawk. I follow my gaze up to her eyes, only to have that awkward moment when two people's eyes meet and you don't know when to turn away. Except, this girl does. She looks away the instant I meet her stare, and she shrinks lower in her seat.

"Detective?" I snap out of my train of thought and look to the teacher who has obviously said something to me. When I don't answer immediately, she repeats the question, "Is this your first time teaching a S. A. C. class?"

I nod, placing the workbooks I had brought with me on the table in front of me. "I am a detective with the Chicago Police Department intelligence unit. I have never taught any of these classes before."

"Well it is extremely fun, and I will let you begin!" she moves around the front table and sits down at her own desk, opening her laptop in front of her. Great, now I really am alone.

My eyes flick over the population of students in front of me, once again letting myself linger on the girl in the back, who is looking intently at her lap. "So, I'm Detective Lyndsay, as you already know," I start off, searching for the right words. "And… um… We're going to have a great few weeks!" one girl scoffs from the middle of the classroom, and I try to ignore it by busying myself with papers. "Before we start, I think it would be a good idea to go over everyone's name, just so I actually know them," I laugh at myself, pleasantly surprised with my idea. "So why don't we start over here."

The fifth graders go down the rows, saying their name with lack luster enthusiasm. Janet, Allison, Meghan, Connor, Shane, Andrew, Tiffany, Penny, Grace, Elijah, Whitney, Brandon, Christian, Corey, and Amelia. When we get to the back, the whole class turns to look at the young girl who seems to be avoiding eye contact. "And your name?" I ask politely, offering a smile to ease her nerves.

She stares at me once again, not saying a word. That is, until she readjusts herself in her seat, and sits up a little straighter. "Uh… It's Robbie," she practically whispers. I am about to tell her how much I like her name, when a group of boys breaks out in a fit of laughter.

"Now don't lie to the detective, Roberta," one of the boys, Anthony if I recall correctly, says devilishly, teasing the girl from his seat. The rest of the class laughs, looking at their friends to make sure they are laughing at Robbie as well.

She grips the corners of her chair, "Shut _up_ Anthony!" she yells. The class responds with a chorus of 'Ooos'.

Anthony suddenly grows serious. "Make me."

The teacher does nothing from her desk, if anything, she is completely oblivious to the arguing students surrounding her. Before I even have to say anything, Robbie sits back down in her seat, the quiet demeanor settling in once more.

 **Let me start by saying thank you for all of the support last chapter! Your reviews, favorites, and follows make me feel wonderful and truly make my day. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, things will start to pick up next chapter when we see a little more of the intelligence unit! Once again, I hoped you enjoyed and please don't forget to review, favorite, and follow the story!  
**

 **Until next time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	3. Chapter 3

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 **Tuesday (The Next Day) – Erin's POV**

"Good morning Ms. Lyndsay!" I hear the gate lock behind me, only to see some of the men in my unit gathered around my desk, holding apples in their hands.

I laugh sarcastically, taking the apple from Jay's hand and taking a big bite from it. Before I left for the school yesterday, they didn't know where I was going, Voight never told them. They only one that did know was Jay, because I told him yesterday while we were out looking for a suspect. "Very funny," I say, pushing past them so I can put my coat down. Atwater and Ruzek high five eachother, but eventually leave to go back to their own computers. Next to them, Al is smiling slightly to himself.

Taking a seat behind my desk, I watch the computer come to life, while out of the corner of my eye, I see Hank coming out of his office, pictures in his hand. He walks over to the whiteboard, gathering the attention of the rest of the unit as he does so.

Our sergeant places a piece of paper on the whiteboard, and moves to the side so we can all see. But what he reveals is nothing that we have ever seen before. Usually, the photos that go up, are of convicts, victims, or other people related to the case. Now, there is a sheet of paper with a large question mark on it. Voight folds his arms, and watches over us, waiting for a reaction.

Finally, Antonio speaks up, "Is that supposed to be something?" he asks, sitting on the corner of his desk, flipping a pencil in his hand.

Voight taps the board, "This is why we take cases from narcotics." His gruff voice carries through the room, and sneaking into our minds as we try to decipher the cryptic message. From behind his back, he taps three more pictures on the board, these ones showing two teen girls and one teenage boy. One of the girls has short hair, dyed a vibrant pink. She has a piercing on her lip, and freckle just below her right eye. The other, has much longer hair, braided to one side. Her eyes are a bright blue, a light pink tint to her lips. The male, is dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, his blonde hair spiked in the front, his left ear pierced.

Next, he takes a stack of folders from a table behind him, starting to hand them out. "Three sixteen year olds died over the span of the past four weeks from heroin overdose. The ME report showed that the heroin was laced with strychnine."

Jay flips through the file, "So kids looking for a high go to the dealer, buy some heroin, but don't know how strong it is? That accounts for a good majority of overdoses."

Hank grunts, "But all of them from the same dealer. Our mystery man."

Now, it is my turn to go over the file. The first papers are the three ME reports from Chicago Med. All of them detailing the traces of heroin and strychnine that was found in the body. The problem is, is that the only witnesses that we can place with the dealers, are all dead. The rest of the papers include information on each of the victims.

"So what's the plan, serge?" Ruzek asks. It's a valid question, what _are_ we supposed to do with this minimal information and miniscule leads?

"I want everything that you can find on this guy, learn about the kids; who did they talk with, who did they hang around with? We need to find this guy before even more people get hurt."

 **Robbie's POV**

I lean against my wall, pillows stacked up behind me as my pencil glides against the paper in front of me. After a long day at school, the last thing I want to do is write this essay. **If you could visit any time period for a day, what would it be and why?** Well, any place is better than here, I want to write, but unfortunately, I can't for obvious reasons.

The noise from downstairs carries up to my room, the only place where I am truly safe. Banging, the breaking of glass, yelling, laughing. Everything seeps through the thin floorboard but I would rather listen to it than see it. And as much as I hate homework, it serves as a great excuse to not go downstairs.

A couple of times a week, my parents' friends come over for hours on end, drinking, doing whatever drugs they have scrounged up since the last time. Most of the time, it becomes pretty bad. And of course, they don't stop until they physically pass out on the couch.

I strain my ears to listen to the conversations downstairs, I find myself getting distracted by thinking about that cop from yesterday. The first lesson of the program described hanging out with the right group of people. Obviously that didn't happen with my parents, and nobody wants to hang out with the creep in the classroom, so that isn't even a problem for me.

I wonder if the cop has friends. I haven't stopped thinking about her since that class. The way that she kept looking at me while she talked about peer pressure and some of the cases she has seen while working that had normal, usually well behaved kids, mixing in with the wrong crowd and getting in trouble. I can't get the way we locked eyes at the beginning, out of my head. It is like she could see right through me, like she knew all of my secrets.

Detective Lyndsay didn't really talk about herself. She only talked about her name and some of the cases that she sees while working. It's is almost as if she was trying to tell us that she has seen a lot, and not much can get by her. At least, that's what I got from it.

If she keeps acting like that, and staring at me for the hour long class every week, I don't know if I will survive it.

 **How was it? I apologize for the short length as this was a filler chapter. Next chapter will include the next class and some Robbie/Erin bonding, and as the story progresses there will be more of Erin/Voight and Erin/Jay. If you liked the story, don't forget to favorite and follow it, along with review your comments, thoughts, and suggestions. Your support encourages me to update faster! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Until next time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	4. Chapter 4

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 **Erin's POV**

The digital clock on the car dashboard just turns to 7:45 as I pull into the parking lot of Morrison Elementary. Even though the class doesn't start until 8:00, Jay had to be at the district for 7:30, so I just left with him. I grab the bag full of worksheets for the upcoming lesson (Risks and Consequences of Bad Decisions), and close the door to my car. I click the button on my keys to lock the car with a loud 'beep', before walking off towards the school.

Regardless of the early time, the sun is shining high in the sky, showering light down upon the courtyard grass. There are no students outside, for they are all getting ready for their first class of the day.

I make my way toward the front office, and then signing my name on the visitor's log that sits in a white binder in front of the secretary. It is a different secretary than the one that was here last week. This one peers at me over the thick gold rims of her glasses, bright blue eyeshadow decorating her eyelids. "Are you hear for the S. A. C. class?" she squawks, folding her hands on top of the desk. Her long fingernails are the same shade as her eyeshadow.

I pull back my suit jacket to reveal my badge, "Detective Lyndsay."

She smiles, "Well detective, Mrs. Johannsen hasn't arrived yet, but if you would like to head on into the classroom, you are more than welcome to." I thank her, and leave the office, following the same route toward the classroom that I went to last week. But as I go through the halls, I can hear yelling coming from one of the classrooms.

My pace quickens, and I turn the final corner. When I reach the classroom, the first thing that I see is that most of the desks towards the front of the room are empty. The ones that housed that students who actively participated in the lesson last week. The second thing is that the kids who once sat in the abandoned chairs are gathered around a desk in the back, whose occupant only occasionally looked my way last week.

After the lesson, I couldn't get the mysterious girl, Robbie, out of my head. All through the next week I kept seeing her face pop up everywhere I looked, at work, at home, I just couldn't seem to get the name Robbie from my thoughts.

The students are gathered around her desk, laughing in a circle. I have been in the middle of those circles far too many times when I was a kid to know what is going on. I put the bag on the counter containing a sink and three different turn in trays, and rush over to the group, pushing my way through the wall of students that has formed.

As soon as the see me, fear masks over their joyous expressions. I am left standing in the center with the boy who made fun of Robbie last week, Anthony, with his friends behind him, pushing Robbie backwards toward the window. Robbie doesn't fight back, instead, she just whacks his hand away every time it touches her. I can tell she is trying to hold in her anger, and she is trying to stay calm, but Anthony is not making it easy on her.

"Hey!" I shout, gathering their attention. Robbie looks to me, a mixture of fear and relief on her face. Anthony's friends back away, knowing what is about to happen. The antagonist himself, just looks at me with a scowl on his face, and pushes her again. " _Enough,_ " I practically growl, putting myself in between the two of them. I feel Robbie breathing heavily behind me. "You need to go sit down, now," I say to Anthony, knowing that if he had the chance he would go at her again.

The boy looks like he wants to say something, but eventually walks back over to his seat, along with the rest of his classmates. When they are all sitting down, I turn slowly around to Robbie, who is watching them with narrowed eyes.

"Are you alright?" I ask, squatting down to her level, seeing how she is almost a full foot shorter than me.

"I'm fine," she says bluntly, once again avoiding my eyes. She looks around the room, observing her classmates watch our exchange. Suddenly, she says, "You aren't going to tell Mrs. Johannsen, are you?"

For the first time since we met, we lock eyes. "I think it is best if we told her what is going on. I noticed it the first week too, it looks like this is a continuous occurrence," my hand reaches out to touch her shoulder. But she flinches away, surprising me.

"I'm uh… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she watches my hand as it goes back down to my side. Once again, she is shutting down. She looks away, and then turns around and sits in her desk. Taking the hint, I rise from my position on the ground, wiping my hands on my pants.

 **Robbie's POV**

The cop. The one that got Anthony away from me. The one that is going to ruin everything for me. I focused on my worksheet the entire time, never once looking up.

Finally, the clock strikes 9:30, and I am able to get up out of my seat and make a beeline towards the door in order to get to my next class of the day. I go with the flow of the students, keeping my head down and not bothering to look where I'm going, because I have gone through these halls more times than I can count.

"Robbie?!" I slowly bring my head up from the linoleum tiles to the backs of other students. I turn around, going against everyone else going towards the gym. Just as I expected, the cop is rushing to me.

In the split second I have to decide, I quickly spin around on my heel, trying to get as far away from her as possible, but she keeps calling my name.

"Robbie, can we just talk for a second," she comes up next to me and gestures to the side of the hallway. Reluctantly, I follow. The students that continue to move by, smirk and giggle amongst themselves, and I can't believe I am putting myself in this situation. "Robbie, today in class I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

She moves a piece of her shoulder length hair behind her ear, while I raise an eyebrow. Did she seriously pull me away from class to apologize for some trivial little thing?

"It's fine, I overreacted," I mumble, trying to get away from her as fast as possible.

Detective Lyndsay shakes her head, "No, it's really not."

The bell rings, and the straggling students rush to get into the classrooms before the doors go. "Listen, I really have to go," I say, and leave without another words.

 **Erin's POV**

I signal Herman for another shot, flipping the empty glass onto the bar top as I do so. My mind has been racing since this morning, the way Robbie flinched away from me with one, gentle touch.

I swish the tequila in my mouth before downing that shot as well, when I feel a pair of lips pressing on top of my head.

I glance up to see Jay, dressed in the same clothes as he was wearing today at work. "Hey," I say simply, picking my jacket up from the chair next to me, and placing it on my lap. He moves his lips down to my cheek, and joins me at the bar.

"Are you alright, you've been tense all day long," he takes the glass offered from Herman, without ever taking his eyes off of me.

I shrug, "This class, Jay, it's a lot harder than I thought it was going to be."

His hand moves up and down on my back, "Are the kids difficult? Is it the teacher?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, rubbing her fingers over her face, "It's not that they're difficult…"

"What? What's bothering you?"

I contemplate telling him exactly what is bothering me, and I finally decide, turning to face my partner, and my boyfriend. "There is this girl, Robbie," he nods, listening and holding on to my every word. "She is very quiet and very withdrawn. She sits in the back of the room, and won't even look at me, Jay, she won't make eye contact."

He tilts his head, "I don't think I understand."

"She reminds me of me, Jay. When I was that age. Living in my mother's new boyfriend's apartment, or in shelter. I never looked in my teacher's eyes, I didn't like people touching me. Something is wrong, Jay, and I'm going to find out what."

 **How was it? Thank you so much for all of your support last chapter! I appreciate each and everything you guys do for this story! If you liked the story, don't forget to favorite and follow it, along with review your comments, thoughts, and suggestions. Your support encourages me to update faster! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Until next time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	5. Chapter 5

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 **Erin ~**

"I talked to their teachers, some of their classmates, and their parents, none of them have any idea who the kids got the drugs. One mom believed that her daughter got them from her swimming coach so we're going to pick him up today." Antonio sits on top of his desk, recapping everything he has learned from the course of the case. Voight stands at the front of the room, not pleased.

He runs his hand over the top of his head, "So you're telling me, that you _still_ don't have anything. Lindsay, anything you want to add?"

I look up from my computer, not so subtly zoning out. "We searched their rooms, and we have warrants for their phones but they all have pass codes on them and if we try more than ten combinations, it will delete all of the data on them."

Voight looks pissed. Never, under my time of knowing him, have I seen him this stuck on a case. "Let me know when you have something," he says through gritted teeth. He turns on his heel, and goes into his office, slamming his office door.

The men in the squad room get busy, instantly starting to type on their keyboards, desperate to find something to show to the sergeant. I, on the other hand, stay staring at my desk. As much as I hate to admit it, I haven't been that invested in this case. My mind keeps wandering back to Robbie, the little girl from the S.A.C class. Her innocent face has implanted itself on me, and I can't shake the thought.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jay stand from his chair. He comes over to me, leaning against the corner of my desk. "So I was thinking we could go back to those kids' rooms to see if we missed anything, or if they wrote down their phone password anywhere," when he notices that I am not really paying attention, he raises one of his eyebrows, his dark brown eyes filled with concern. "Erin? You okay?"

I don't answer immediately, and he knows exactly why. "Are you thinking about that kid again?"

Not bothering to tell him Robbie's name again, I nod. "I can't stop thinking about her, Jay. I just wish I knew what is going on with her."

"But you don't know if anything is even wrong." I don't argue with him, even though he is wrong. Robbie is acting exactly how I was before I moved in with Hank. I can see it in her eyes that something isn't right. Seeing my hesitation, he gestures to the computer. "But, if you do think she is in danger, you could always look her up on the database."

Finally, I break my gaze with the desk, and look up to him, a grin breaking out on my face. I turn on the screen, quickly clicking on the application that will bring me to the polic database. Through the database, I should be able to find her police record, and some other documents containing information about her. I click on the search icon, typing in the name 'Roberta' but pausing before typing in her last name. I pull out a folder from my bag, the one containing all of my worksheets and forms for the class. I pull out the roster, and find her last name. I put 'Murphy' next to her first name, and, after inputting a few other pieces of information, click search.

Jay drags a chair up next to me as the screen loads, the mouse spinning. Finally, after what feels like eternity, a page comes up with her name at the top. "Well, she doesn't have a police record," I say after some observation, which I am grateful for. I click on the tab next to her name, which brings me to her a report from the Department of Children and Family Services. It is a generally mundane looking report, except for one note written in the margins of the typed document. _Many hospital visits in the past year, possible abuse._ The document is dated 2015, but no follow up reports have been sent in since. I go through the other tabs, but nothing on her hospital visits are in the file.

I 'X' out of the application, and lean back in my chair, sighing as the screws squeak underneath me. "Annnnnnd, we're back to square one." The fact that DCFS noted that there might be signs of abuse in her file, but no follow up reports have been made, enrages me. What is the point of having an agency dedicated to helping kids, if they are letting them fall through the crack?

"Maybe not," Jay points out, turning my chair so I am facing him. "The file said that she had many hospital visits, so that means there is some kind of record of that in the hospital. Let's take a trip to Chicago Med, see if Will can help us out."

Jay parks the door outside of the Emergency Room, and we get out simultaneously, closing our doors at the same time. We go into the crowded ER, maneuvering our way through the people desperate for help, trying to get out of the way. When we get to the main desk, we ask the nurse where Jay's brother is, and when she tells us that he is on break, I instantly feel relieved. The sooner we can get this information, the better.

The nurse pages him for us, and we go into the much quieter hall. In only seconds, Will rounds the corner, a grin breaking out onto his face when he sees it is just his brother, instead of a dying patient.

"Well, well, if it isn't Chicago's finest," Will punches Jay lightly in the shoulder, giving me a smile as he does so. "What brings you two over here?"

Before I have a chance to say anything, Jay beats me to it. "We need you to look up the medical records for an eleven-year-old girl."

Will purses his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. "You guys know I can't give you that information without a warrant."

This time, I take over for Jay, "Listen, Will, we wouldn't ask you if it weren't _incredibly_ important. There is this girl in the class that I am teaching and I think there is something going on at home."

Jay's brother breaks out laughing, "You're teaching a class," the two boys breaking out laughing as I glare at Jay and then at Will.

" _Please,_ " I practically beg.

Noticing how upset this is making me, Will uncrosses his arm, and looks around the hospital. Without a word, he leads us through the winding maze of hallways to the nurses' station on the second floor. He takes a seat behind the empty computer and asks me for the girl's name.

I tell him, and his slim fingers fly across the keyboard.

"I remember this girl," he says as soon as he sees the file, "She came in quite a few times last year, but we haven't seen her since."

"Why did she come in?"

He scrolls down, "Well the first time was for a pretty large gash on her arm. We stitched it up but noticed some bruising on her elbow so we took a few X-rays, which showed many unhealed fractures. Her Mom discharged her against medical advice," Jay and I share an uneasy glance, "And then the next few times were for some broken bones, a broken rib, and a concussion, all on different visits. Each time, her Mom discharged her against medical consent. It was like she wanted to make sure that Robbie wasn't going to die, but nothing further than that."

 **Robbie ~**

I can't stand the sound of my parents' friends. They are animals, and disgusting, and rude. I wish I could say that it is their fault that my parents are the way they are, but I can't. That would be a lie.

I sit up in my room, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders as an attempt to protect me from the chill that is running through our house. If I had to guess, my mother forgot to pay the heating bill this month, which means I will have to figure out a way to do that in the upcoming days. My legs are crossed underneath the blanket, my dim bedside table light illuminating the room just enough so I can see the pages of the new book that I just borrowed from the library. My side, where I just received a nice little punch from one of my father's friends when I went downstairs to get some dinner, is throbbing like a beat of a drum.

I should have known better. You don't go downstairs when your parents have friends over, it's just not what you do. But, no matter how many times I try to remind myself, I still find myself regretting my decision to feed myself. One of these days, I will learn.

 **Hey everyone! Thank you for all of the support while I was away, I am sorry I haven't updated in a while. But, I am back! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to review, follow and favorite!**

 **Until next time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	6. Chapter 6

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

Robbie~

I sit in the corner of the principal's office, tapping my foot against the linoleum floor as Mrs. Richie watches me out of the corner of her eye. She closes the Manila file with my name printed on it in bold, placing it on the corner of her desk. "Robbie, we are going to have to call your mom." I don't look her in the eye. I guess I knew it was coming, but in the moment, I wasn't thinking about it.

 _An Hour Earlier…._

 _Despite my absolute boredom, I try my best to pay attention to my teacher as she drones on about Abraham Lincoln. Any other day, I would be thrilled to here. But today, I'm exhausted, and can't bring myself to care about what is going on in school. All last night, my parents' friends found it amusing to throw bottles against the wall and party like the world was going to end. Instead of eight hours of sleep last night, I got one hour plus a night full of crude remarks, drunk laughter, and screaming into all hours of the night. When I got up this morning, I left a house inhabited by seven passed out druggies._

 _My teacher looks at the clock, "And I think we will wrap up there. Detective Lindsay will be here in about twenty minutes, and I heard she is bringing a special guest today." Excitement runs through the room. Of course, they are excited, any normal kid would be. But then again, I'm not a normal kid._

 _I stretch out in my desk. My eyes so heavy with exhaustion, and my brain foggy, I don't even notice when the teacher leaves the room. Staring out the window, I whip my head around when I feel excess weight being placed upon the desktop. I am left facing Anthony, his friends circling behind him._

" _What's wrong, Robbie? You don't like the big scary cop?" He laughs, "I don't know why you would be. She's nothing more than a wimpy girl like you."_

Yeah, okay, like you are any less "wimpy", _I think to myself, knowing full well that Detective Lindsay could be the crap out of him if she wanted to. I don't answer him out loud, which only adds fuel to his fire. Ever since the time that the cop had to break up the circle, he has been even more malicious. Which makes my school experience_ that _much better._

" _When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer." I finally look up at him, and narrow my eyes. In the few years that I have known Anthony, I have discovered that his main form of bullying is verbal. Sure, he's pushed me around a few times, but he has never physically hurt me. Which is why he surprises me so much when he jumps up off the desk and lifts the front of it up, grasping the front of it, lifting it up and throwing it down onto the floor._

 _My body bounces in the chair, and I brace myself for another impact. I hold in a reaction from the pain, ignoring the ache in my hip, and remembering that weakness is dangerous in these situations. "I guess you still haven't learned," he says when I don't respond for a second time, and he does it again. This time, I fall out of my chair and land on the dirty carpet. Satisfied, the boys start to walk away._

 _Something overcomes me, though, and I stand, marching over to them with an extreme sense of purpose. I tap Anthony on the shoulder, and he turns around, only for my fist to connect with his cheek. I stand there, shocked at what I have just done. Then, the craziest thing happens. He walks out of the classroom._

I find out later that he went to find the teacher who then preceded to send me to the Principal's Office, which is where I am now… wishing I had just stayed invisible, like always.

"Yeah, I figured," I mumble, sinking back lower into the chair. I can hear the secretary in the main office. The adjoining door open, displaying my business for my world to see.

I watch her dial the phone number, even though I know it is pointless: even if my parents do answer, which is a very slim chance, there is no way they are going to come and walk. Principal Richie holds the phone other ear for a few moments, before talking to the answering machine, telling it all about why I am in the office. When she hangs up, she mocks my stance, leaning back until her chair squeaks.

"You knew your parents wouldn't answer, didn't you, Robbie?" I shrug. The principal along with a few other teachers have tried on numerous occasions to try and figure out what is "going on" at home. I tell them the same thing every time- to butt out. "Well you don't have any other contact numbers listed… Is there anyone else I can call?"

Shaking my head, she clasps her hands on her lap. "Well, I guess you can go back to class until someone comes to pick you up. But I don't want to see you in here ever again, is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," I say somewhat ashamedly. I stand from my chair, and turn to go out the door, when I see _her._ My day just keeps getting better and better.

Erin~

I close my car door in the parking lot of the elementary school, the passenger door echoing the same sound. Armed with my bag of workbooks, Jay and I head towards the main entrance.

After permission was granted from Voight, I asked Jay to join me on this week's endeavor into the fifth-grade classroom. It has nothing to do with wanting to give the students a different perspective, instead, I wanted Jay to meet Robbie, just to confirm that I am not crazy.

I resist the temptation to grab his hand when we are buzzed in, reminding myself of the professionalism that needs to be maintained. "When you see her, don't make it too obvious. I don't want her to think she's in trouble or anything."

He smirks and when I ask 'what' he just shakes his head. "It's cute to see you so concerned." I light heartedly glare at him, but continue into the main office, where I hear someone talking in the principal's office. I ignore it for the time being, and sign both Jay and I in, but as we are getting ready to leave, Robbie emerges from the Principal's office.

She doesn't look happy to see us. In fact, she looks frustrated. "G-Good morning, Robbie," I manage, grabbing my bag and turning to face her. Jay looks from me to Robbie, and then back to me. "How was your week?"

"It was fine," she responds bluntly. She sticks her hands in her pocket, shifting her weight from one side to the other.

I nod uneasily, and then remember my partner standing right next to me. "Oh! Robbie, this is my partner Detective Jay Halstead. Jay, this is Robbie, one of the students in the class."

He reaches his hand out to her, and Robbie flinches back away from it. When she realizes what, she has done, her face turns bright red, and she returns the gesture, before turning her head to the ground.

The secretary avoids my questioning look, but before she has a chance to answer, Robbie pushes past us, in a hurry to get to the classroom. Jay looks startled, but tries to brush it off by taking my bag from me. Without a comment, we follow her to the waiting fifth graders. When Jay and I reach the classroom door, we can see Robbie hurrying past her classmates to her seat in the back of the room.

"So that's Robbie," Jay says quietly, standing outside of the classroom.

"Yup, that's Robbie."

The class drags on, Jay and I taking turns describing the course material, and answering questions that ring out from the rows of desks. But finally, the bell rings, and the students rush out into the hallway- the first one being Robbie. "You in the mood for lunch?" I ask Jay, still trailing Robbie with my eyes. Jay, knowing exactly what I am thinking, nods.

We pack up the work books, and say goodbye to the fifth-grade teacher, merging with the rest of the students going into the cafeteria. The smell hits us as soon as we enter the echo-y hall. The stench of greasy canned green beans and stale wheat bread brings back an abundance of memories from my days in elementary school. Memories I would much rather forget than to remember. One thing is for certain, though, no matter what school I ended up in, the smells and the quality of food remained the same.

Jay and I scan the cafeteria, ignoring some of the lingering stares and whispers of the kids in our class. Finally, I spot our target. Robbie is sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria, her dark blue shirt barely visible against the black tiles on the wall. Her head is face down, looking at her lunch. She moves it around with her fork, eventually shoveling a bite into her mouth, grimacing at the taste, but keeps going.

I start heading over to her, expecting Jay to follow. When I reach the table, I sit down without a word. Robbie looks up at me, immediately rolling her eyes. "Seriously?"

"Hi Robbie," Jay says simply, taking a seat next to me. He seems comfortable around her, like today wasn't the first time he has seen her.

She gives him the same look she gave me. "Hi."

"Do you mind if we join you?" I ask, already unpacking my things.

Robbie sighs, pushing her food away and leaning back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "Do I have a choice?" She is acting different than in our previous encounters. It's seems to be that she is acting more hostile with Jay around. With just me, she was quiet.

Jay clears his throat, looking uneasily at Robbie. "So, Robbie, are you excited to graduate and go to middle school?"

She looks at him through her eyebrows. "Sure."

Jay gives me a sidelong glance, "Alright then."

We sit in silence, Robbie shooting daggers at us with her eyes. "Do you do anything out of school?"

She raises her eyebrows, "What do you want from me?" Robbie looks me straight in the eye, "What is your obsession?"

I hold up my hands in surrender. Making her feel uncomfortable was never my intention. I just need to make sure everything is alright in Robbie's at home life. "I'm just trying to-."

"No! Just stop trying. I didn't ask you to check up on me or try being my friend or just talking to me general! Just leave me alone!"

 **Hey everyone! Thank you for all of the support while I was away, I am sorry I haven't updated in a while. But, I am back! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to review, follow and favorite!**

 **Until next time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	7. Chapter 7

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

Thank you for sticking with me! Here's a nice long chapter for you guys!

 **6 Days Later**

 **Robbie-**

Most people wouldn't consider Mondays as party days. For those people, parties are typically reserved for Fridays and Saturdays. Those people do not, and have never included my parents. To prove this point, they crank the stereo to a minimum of 30, and shove a crinkled ten-dollar bill into my hand, sending me out to get chips, which I know won't be touched while their friends are over.

I sit up in my room, the door solidly blocked with a chair from the kitchen, with an open bag of chips from last week's party. My math textbook is poised on a pillow, a notebook on my lap. Downstairs, I can hear the party just beginning, with the few friends that my mother and father genuinely like arriving.

Working out another problem, I push the bag of chips away, licking the burning salt off my lips. My head is pounding and my stomach is growling from the lack of actual nutrients that my body is desperately lacking.

There is a bang downstairs, followed by a slur of swears, and I flinch. I sit completely still, waiting for someone to bust down my makeshift barricade, but no one ever comes. When a minute passes, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

This is the worst part about their parties: the fear that I will be seen. That concept has been engrained in my head since I was old enough to walk: children are not to be seen nor heard. It amazes me how people like Anthony are so loud and obnoxious and constantly begging for attention. In my house, that can get you killed.

Another crash resounds through the rickety house (which, by the way, I am sure is going to fall apart at any moment), followed by a blood curdling, _"ROBERTA!"_

My heart leaps into my throat, and for a moment, I think about leaving the house right now; just climbing out my window and running to the nearest bus station, hoping that the small shelter is enough to keep me warm through the night. But then, the thought of what could happen when I come back, late, the thought quickly leaves my mind. I crawl out from underneath my blanket, and walk carefully over to my door. I pull the chair away from the handle, and enter the hallway. The laughing has resumed, but I still creep down the stairs.

I sneak through the back entrance of the kitchen, peering around the door frame. There is a shattered vodka bottle on the kitchen floor, and the remnants of white powder covering the countertop. I hear someone shout my name again, and I turn around, heading to the living room.

They are lounging around on the couch, the table in front of it covered in alcohol bottles and many tiny bags cluttered over the surface. My mother is leaning back against my father, smoke curling from the cigarette in her mouth. "What?" she spits, catching the attention of the other three in the room. My father grunts, wiping underneath his nose.

My voice stutters, "Um…. Y-you called m-me?" My palms are sweating, and my heart pounds under the stares of the adults.

The blank look on Mom's face shows me just how foggy her mind is. She pushes herself up off the couch, and staggers over to me. She bends down, her breath making my throat tighten, and the little wisps of hair tickle my forehead. "I _what_?"

I take a step back, "Nothing, I'll go back upstairs. "

Starting to turn back around, I'm stopped. "Roberta, get over here." I take a shaky breath, but turn, and walk over to him. The front of his shirt is stained with God knows what, and his body odor resembles that of a wild animal. When I get within arm's length, he grips my shoulder tightly. I struggle to keep a neutral face. "Do you want to try that again?"

My mind races, trying to come up with an acceptable response. "Yes, sir?"

His hand comes from his side, and slaps me across the face. Laughter erupts from the audience in the room. "I think you owe your mother an apology for speaking to her that way." I try to turn around to apologize to her, but his grip tightens so much that I shrink to one side, reducing my yelp to a whimper. "Try again." I look at his fiery eyes, and try to move his grip off my shoulder, but instead, his slap turns to a punch. "Wrong answer." And then another. And another.

 **The Next Day**

My entire body aches. It throbs and pain cruises up my spine. Groaning, I turn over on my side, slowly realizing that I am in my bed. The light streams through the torn part of the shade, and I attempt to shield my face, but with the flash of pain, I put it down.

I don't remember much about last night; just that I went downstairs and…. Now I'm here. My parents are silent, and I stifle a cry of pain as I sit up in bed, catching my reflection in the mirror. My left cheek is a mosaic of black and blue, an undertone of green around the outside. There is a small cut right above my collar bone, and underneath my shirt, I know that there are many more bruises yet to be seen. One thing is for certain, though. There is no way I can go to school today.

 **Erin-**

 _She's not here._ That's the first thing I notice when I walk into the fifth-grade classroom Tuesday morning. The seat in the back of the room is empty, with no sign of Robbie in the entire school.

Much to my dismay, last week's introduction to Jay did not go as planned. I wanted Robbie to open up to both of us, not just build her already high walls, even higher. After we left, Jay agreed with me, though. Something is going on with Robbie, we just need to put a finger on it.

After a long class of continuous glares from Anthony, I am glad when the bell finally rings. I watch as the students exit, thankful to have one more class under my belt. As I put my final folder into my bag, Mrs. Johannsen starts towards the door, but I hurry to catch up to her.

"Mrs. Johannsen! Can I talk to you for a second?" She pauses just as her foot is about to cross over into the hallway.

"Of course, Detective! What can I do for you?" The teacher sits down on top of the desk.

I follow her lead, and lean up against one of the chairs. "I was wondering what you can tell me about Robbie."

She nods sadly. "And _I_ was wondering when you were going to ask about her." Despite the situation, I laugh.

"Is it that obvious?" Her looks confirm that it is. "Anything you can tell me would be great, I'm just worried about her, that's all."

Mrs. Johannsen looks down at her clasped hands. "She is absent quite frequently," she starts, refusing to look me in the eye. My heart starts beating faster. _It's about time we got somewhere._ "And, sometimes, she comes in with bruises." I try not to glare at her, but it is so hard not to. I grew up with teachers that didn't care enough to say anything, and look where I ended up before Hank took me in. I don't want that to happen to Robbie.

"And have you done anything about that?"

She bites the corner of her lip. "I made a report at the beginning of the year. The principal said she would send it to DCFS, but I don't know if she ever did." Mrs. Johannsen takes a moment, and then says, "You think there is something going on with her parents, don't you?"

I scratch the spot where my neck meets my head, "Mrs. Johannsen, all I know is that something isn't settling with me right, and I need to check it out," she nods in agreement. "Would you be able to give me her home address so I can go check on her, just to make sure?"

The teacher looks into the hallway, before hurrying over to her computer. She lifts the top, and types in a few things before coming with an address: 558 Harrison Ave.

* * *

It takes me a minimum ten minutes to drive to the other side of town. I contemplate putting my sirens on, but then decide against it, seeing how I don't even know what kind of situation I am walking in to. When I pull up to the address, I am shocked at how disheveled the house looks. There is siding missing, and most the roof isn't covered with shingles. The grass is overgrown, and the only spot that seems to affected by a human presence is a small spot underneath a first-floor window. The blinds are open, and from my car, I can see a flash of movement from inside the house. Good enough for me.

I lock my car, and walk up to the house, flipping my phone in my hand as I do so. When I get closer to the door, I look back into the window, and see the small girl sitting on her bed, an ice pack pressed against her cheek. I knock lightly on the door. In a moment of seconds, the door cracks open. Through the part of the door that can be open with the chain lock on it, I can see one eye widen, and the door closes again. I hear the rattle of the chain, and before I know it, Robbie is standing outside with me.

My mouth drops open. The left side of her face is unrecognizable under the swelling and bruises, and a cut on her collar bone has dried blood around it. The worst part about her appearance, though, is the fury in her eyes.

"What are you _doing_ here?!" She half whispers – half shouts at me, crossing her arms protectively over her chest, while looking back at the house. Robbie doesn't give me a chance to answer, before she says, "You need to leave, like, now." The once shy fifth grader is gone, and has now been replaced with a defensive girl who is acting much older than her actual age.

"Robbie, what happened?" My voice cracks, and tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, but I know that if I cry, I might as well lose all hope in finding anything out.

She looks back at the house, and suddenly grabs my hand. She pulls me through the long grass until we are at the side of the house, in between a strip of woods and the wall. "You need to leave. Now." My mouth parts as I try to find the right words to say to her, but they don't come. "It's one thing for you to stalk me at school, and it's another thing for you to bring your…your _friend_ to come interrogate me! But you _cannot_ come to my house! You. Need. To. Leave. Me. Alone!"

Robbie tries to go around me to get back in the house, but I side step in front of her, blocking her path. "Sweetie, you need to tell me who did this to you."

"No. I. Don't." That line is so familiar with me, I almost wonder if it was me who said it since I've said it so many times before: to my teachers, to the police, to Hank. "But you need to _leave!"_

I shake my head. "Not until I know who did this to you." Robbie looks between me and the house, mentally figuring out how she will be able to cross the yard without me stopping her, but none of her approaches will work; I know this game far too well. "And please do not try and tell me that you walked into a door, because we both know that is not the case."

She runs her tongue over her lips, "It was Anthony."

My eyebrows crunch together, "The boy from your class?"

The girl shifts her weight from foot to foot, "Mhmm." She doesn't look me in the eye, automatically telling me she is lying.

"Robbie, regardless of who did this to you, we need to bring you to the hospital."

She full out laughs, "That's hilarious!"

I grow serious, "I'm glad you think that this is funny, but I wasn't joking."

Her expression matches mine, "You can't make me."

"Robbie, we are either going to the hospital, or I will bring you into the station for truancy and your parents can come pick you up. Your choice." I know I might be exaggerating a little about the truancy charge, but this girl needs to be checked out by a doctor.

She doesn't know what to say. "I don't want to go to the hospital."

"Robbie, I understand that you are scared, but I will have you know that I am friends with one of the doctors and-"

"-Great, more of your friends."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Kiddo, please. I just want to make sure you are alright." She shakes her head in disbelief, running her hand through her hair.

"The doctor can look at my face. That's it."

* * *

The drive to Chicago Med is long and silent, with Robbie sitting in the back of the car silently, her head pressed against the cool window. She is running the pad of her thumbs over her fingers, her leg bouncing up and down. I don't bother to try and make conversation, knowing that if I start asking her questions, she will shut down even more than she already has.

I put the car in park, and unbuckle my seat belt. Robbie does the same, and quickly exits the car, not bothering to wait for me. I have to run to catch up with her, and even then, she stares straight ahead, walking straight through the emergency room doors.

"Robbie," I reach out and gently touch her shoulder, but she flinches away. My heart sinks.

"Don't touch me."

I hold my hands up in surrender. "Robbie, my friend, Dr. Halstead is Jay's brother. He's a doctor here."

She rolls her eyes, "Is this whole city in cahoots with eachother?"

It's funny how true her statement is. "Come on." I lead her over to the nurses' station, "Hey Maggie, is Will around?" With one look at Robbie, who is franticly looking around at the hustle and bustle of the hospital, she gestures to the opposite end of the desk, where Jay's brother is leaning over a computer dressed in maroon scrubs.

I bend down in front of Robbie, "I will be there with you the entire time. You can trust Will, I promise."

We go over to the opposite side of the emergency room, but before I can say anything, Will notices us. "Hey, Erin, what's going on?" I don't have to answer, for he looks down at the girl standing off to the side, flinching every time someone passes her. "You must be Robbie."

Robbie glares at me, "You already told him about me?"

Again, Will beats me to it. "Robbie, you came here a few years ago. I treated you for a pretty deep cut on your arm. Do you remember?"

The flash of realization that crosses her face confirms that she does, but she doesn't say anything besides, "Let's get this over with." Without any permission, she goes over to one of the beds and sits down, crossing her arms over her chest.

Will turns to me, "You found her."

"That I did."

The examination is uneventful. Robbie sits on the bed with a stoic expression plastered on her face, the right side of her mouth twitching in pain every time Will pushes on a tender area. She refuses to look either one of us in the eye. Finally, Will tells us there isn't anything broken, and there are no signs of a concussion, but she should still take it easy over the next few days. Robbie stands gratefully, mumbling that she will meet me in the car.

I watch sadly as she weaves through the ER and out the automatic doors. Will looks at me with a defeated face. "Those bruises are from being hit, Erin."

I bite my lip, "Yeah, I know."

"With one more blow to her head, she would not be conscious right now, Erin. That kid is in serious danger."

"I know," I say again.

He runs a hand through his short hair. "You need to get her out of whatever hell she is living in. Can't you just take her out of the house?"

"Even if I did, she would deny everything. She's not admitting to anything, Will. She doesn't trust me."

"Then make her trust you. Show her that she isn't alone in this."

I smile sadly to myself, before an idea pops into my head, "Will, you're a genius. Thank you!" He looks stunned, but I run out of the emergency room, and towards the parking lot, where I see Robbie leaning up against the side of my car.

"Can I go home now?" She asks.

I shrug, "How would you like to have dinner with me and my father?"

 **I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please don't forget to review, favorite, and follow the story! Next Chapter: Robbie meets Hank and it's going to get personal.**

 **Thanks for reading, you guys are the best!**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	8. Chapter 8

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **Thank you for all of your support last chapter! It means so much to me that you guys are liking the story! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**_

 **Robbie –**

I am going to die. It's official. I am never going to make it out of this lunatic's car, and I am never going to see the light of day again. The worst part is that no one will ever know what happened to me. My parents won't report me missing, obviously, and she works for the police department that would hypothetically search for me. So, basically, I'm screwed.

I'm in the back of her car, with the seatbelt digging into my neck since it is stretched up so high, and occasionally she will look back at me through the rearview mirror. I'm terrified of this woman. She might have Mrs. Johannsen fooled, and the rest of my class, but not me. I know exactly what these types of people do. They get you to trust them, and then as soon as you do, they shatter it like a piece of glass. And, I'm letting her do it. I went to the hospital, where I met her partner's (and possibly boyfriend since I'm getting the feeling that there is a little more going on there) creepy brother who remembered me from two years ago, and I continue to put myself in a car with her. _Get it together, Robbie._

Detective Lindsay flips on her blinker and turns onto an illuminated street. By this time, most people are home from work, and they are happily having dinner with their family. That's one way to live life. She pulls into an empty driveway, the garage door open and showing a black SUV. "Are you ready?" She asks, turning around and giving me that signature smile, waiting for an answer. If Erin is this persuasive, I have no clue what to expect from her father.

I follow the detective up through the back entrance of her house. She doesn't bother knocking, just goes in and calls, "Hank!" _I thought this guy is her father?_ She turns back to me, "Come on, it's alright, I will be with you the entire time."

The kitchen is empty, an abandoned beer bottle on the table. The sound of someone walking down the stairs resounds through the house. "Erin, is that you? The deep, gruff voice identifies itself when a middle-aged man comes into the kitchen, a set jaw line and a police badge attached to his pants. His face lights up when he sees the woman. "Hey, kid." The man reaches out and ruffles Erin's hair, she rolls her eyes and playfully swats his hand away. He looks me up and down, his eyes pausing when he sees the bruises covering my face. "Who's your friend?"

She turns to me, and gestures for me to move away from the security of the door. I hesitantly move towards the intimidating man who is looking from me to his supposed daughter. "This is Robbie, one of the students from Morrison. Robbie, this is Hank."

He moves towards me, and reaches his hand out, I raise my own, it shaking while he takes it, and squeezes tightly. "Hank Voight, nice to meet you." He looks up at Erin when he notices my hesitation. I slink back to the door. "What are you guys up to?"

"We just thought we would stop by for some of your famous steaks, what do you say?"

Hank smirks, "I guess I can scrounge something up." He moves over to the fridge, and pulls out a package of meat. I carefully watch his every movement, from when he picks up the steaks, to when he cuts them open with a knife. Erin is making herself comfortable, getting an array of spices from the cabinet along with glasses, a pitcher of water, and silverware. "So, Robbie, how bad of a teacher is Erin?"

My eyes widen, and I look between Hank and Detective Lindsay, "Uh s-she's not, sir. She's good. I-I promise."

Erin exchanges a sidelong glance with the man, "Robbie, he was just kidding," she starts moving towards me. My feet refuse to move from the ground. She notices my stance and freezes, using her hand to gesture for me to come over to her. "Why don't you come sit down?" She opens her arm to me, and I take the few steps until I reach the table. I pull out the chair, and sit down.

From the table, I have a perfect view of the living room, whose walls are lined with framed pictures. Some of them feature Hank and an older woman, his arm draped lovingly around her. Then there are others with a young boy, but it isn't until the boy looks about ten, does a young Erin start appearing in pictures.

"I'm going to go put these on the grill," Hank says, moving past Erin and out the back door towards the grill that we passed on the way inside.

Erin comes over and sits down next to me. "How are you doing, kiddo?"

I raise an eyebrow, "How do you want me to answer that?'

Her face doesn't change, "There's nothing to be afraid of here, Robbie." She pushes a piece of her wavy hair behind her ear, "Hank isn't going to hurt you, and I am not going to hurt you." My face apparently doesn't show that I believe her, so she reaches out a takes my hand. When I pull it back, she looks at it like she should've known. She parts her mouth like she wants to say something, but Hank comes back in.

"Why don't we move into the living room where it is more comfortable?" He says, taking a gulp of the glass of water that Erin gave to him when we first got here. Erin agrees with him, and the two move into the living room, mumbling something about a case they are still working on. Hank sits down on the left side of the couch, while Erin sits in a battered armchair, leaving the only available seat on the couch with Hank.

I sigh, pushing myself out of the chair, ignoring the dull ache in my arm. I walk over to the two adults, my heart pounding as they follow me with their eyes until I sit down on the opposite end of the piece of furniture, as close to the arm as possible. I don't look at either of them, but I do see them communicating with their eyes.

"Do you like school, Robbie?" Hank asks, not so discreetly looking at my bruises. I move my hair over my shoulder, trying to cover them.

"It's fine."

He looks up at Erin, "And what about the kids? What are your friends' names?"

I can't help myself. I laugh. "Oh yeah, I have a ton of friends," I let the tone of my voice rise in perkiness, "And every Friday night we have sleepovers and paint each other's nails," I say sarcastically.

Finally, I look at the two of them. Hank is grinning like a maniac while Erin is watching him carefully. He laughs. "Erin was the same way when she was your age."

The female detective rolls her eyes with a laugh, "Oh what _ever_ , you didn't even know me when I was ten." _Well that explains the pictures._

"Mhmm, but I did know you when you were thirteen and from then on you were still like that so I highly doubt a three-year age difference would change anything."

I watch their conversation like a tennis match, until my expression shows Erin just how confused I am. She looks from Hank to me, and then says, "I met Hank when I was thirteen. I was living with my mom and whatever boyfriend she was with for that week. More often than not, her boyfriends were more interested in hitting me around than they were being my Mom's boyfriend." I search her face, trying to figure out if she is telling the truth. "I was arrested a couple of times for some misdemeanors and a few other things, but then Hank found me. I became his C.I., and he took me in. Him, his wife, Camille, and his son, Justin, became my family."

I don't know whether to believe her or not. For all I know, she could be making this up just to make me trust her. She might want to find common ground, which is a sick way of trying to get inside my head. Hank is watching us from his position on the couch, and he glances at his watch, "I'm going to go check the steaks."

When he is out of the house, I turn to Erin, "Are you telling the truth?" I look at the pictures hanging around the room, at the happy family. There is no way that Erin, a detective, could be telling the truth about her childhood.

She looks towards the door, and then comes over and sits next to me. She is so close that I can feel her body heat coming off her jacket. "I wouldn't lie to you Robbie." One thing I know for sure, if she actually grew up the way she says she did, lying is in her bones. What's stopping her from bringing an old habit back?

Hank comes back into the house with a plate of steaming steaks that smell so delicious my mouth threatens to water. I haven't had a decent meal for as long as I can remember. The closest thing to a nutritious meal that I've had are lunches at school, which always makes my stomach crawl. He stabs each piece of meat and throws it down on a plate, placing each one at a place on the table. He places the salad in the center. "Dinner is served."

I wait until Erin takes a seat at the table before I follow her lead, inhaling the scent of the steak. I take my fork in my hand and try to cut the steak with the side of it, but it doesn't work. Hank is piling salad on his plate, but Erin is watching me with sad eyes. She raises her hands, where her fork is in her left hand in between her fingers, and her knife is in her right. She sticks the fork into the meat, and cuts it slowly, before gesturing me to do the same. I feel the heat rise into my ears as I follow her lead, thankful that I didn't embarrass myself in front of Hank.

After one bite, I have to restrain myself from shoveling the steak into my mouth at a speed that my body cannot keep up with. I try to eat slowly, taking bite after bite, savoring every last piece. Hank and Erin continue to communicate through their wordless stares as they eat their own dinner, being able to contain themselves much more than I can, but they don't say anything. The kitchen is filled with the sound of the knives scratching against the plates, until every piece of edible meat is cleared, and the two adults are leaning back in their chairs, wiping their mouths with their napkins.

When I take the last sip of water, Hank clears his throat. "Robbie, I want to ask you a question."

My heart skips a beat, and I look to Erin for support, but she is watching her father. "O-okay." My leg starts bouncing up and down.

"I need you to tell me – us – who hit you." Erin's face dips down so she is looking at her hands. I should've known this was coming. "Trust is not something that I take lightly, so when I tell you that you can trust us, I promise that is what I mean."

I refuse to look him in the eye, even though he is full on staring at me. I could tell them right here, and end this entire thing. I can tell them about my parents, and how they constantly have their hands on me. I can tell them about the drugs, the lack of food, and the general lack of money. I can get out of the house, just like Erin did. But with my luck, everything would back fire. I would be stuck in that house in a worse situation than I started out in. "I didn't come here to be interrogated, sir."

He clenches his jaw, and nods. Erin is still refusing to look at me. "This is in no way an interrogation, Robbie. You are obviously in danger-."

"I can take care of myself."

Hank lets out a harsh laugh, "Oh really? So, what happened to your face?"

Erin's head snaps up, "Hank!"

He doesn't acknowledge her. "Robbie, I don't know what you are afraid of, but you need to tell us if you want our help."

His daughter' s voice comes softly from beside me, "You don't need to pretend Robbie. Let us help you."

Tears cloud my vision, I want to accept their help, I really do. I want to be able to trust them. I want to be able to give Erin a hug and thank her for not giving up on me even when I screamed at her more than once. My voice cracks when I finally speak, "I-I can't."

Erin reaches across the table and grasps my hand so tight that I can't move it away. My hands are sweaty, and I know it must be disgusting for her, but a part of me is glad that I can't remove my hand from her grasp. "Yes, you can, Robbie. No one will ever find out and we will get you out of that house."

I bite the corner of my lip. They already know it has to do with my parents, so why are they asking? "I think it is time for me to go home."

Erin looks helplessly at Hank, but he doesn't seem ready to give up. "Look at me Robbie." I let my eyes peek above my eyebrows, "Look me in the eye and tell me that you are fine."

I can't do it. I avoid his gaze at all costs and turn to face Erin. "Please take me home. Please."

* * *

 **Erin –**

Every once in a while, I will look back in the rearview mirror and I will see Robbie wiping a tear off of her bruised cheek. But she won't talk with me. She won't even look at me, and for that, I feel like I failed. My plan did not work. I expected her to at least open up to Hank, if not me too. I wanted her to feel safe around me, and I think that I scared her more.

I pull up to her house, but I keep the car running, letting the doors stay locked. I pull one of my cards from my glove compartment and turn around in the seat to face her. "I want you to have this," I say, handing it over to her. "Day or night, if you need help, please call me. I put Hank's phone number on the back of it so you can call him if you'd rather. I understand if you are scared, I was too before I started trusting Hank, but Robbie, it was the best thing I ever did."

She stuffs the card into her pocket, and grasps the door handle in her hand. I unlock the door, and quickly climb out. She looks franticly at the house, "What are you doing?"

I look at her in the pitch-black darkness, "I'm not letting you walk up there by yourself, kiddo, come on." I wrap my arm around her shoulder, even though I know she will move away from it. However, I am surprised when she doesn't, and for that, I pull her closer to my side, until we are in front of her door. She keeps looking between the door and me.

"Thank you for dinner and for introducing me to your father."

I force a smile onto my face, "Of course, Robbie. And I don't want you to ever feel like a stranger. You are welcome there any time."

"Th-." She starts to thank me again, but is interrupted by the sudden opening of the front door. She staggers backwards and almost falls off the steps, but I luckily catch her before she does. In the doorway is a man with a light stubble covering the bottom half of his face. His hair is dark black and greasy, the curls that Robbie obviously inherited covering his head and ears. He is wearing a stained white t-shirt, and gray sweatpants, an angry glint in his eyes.

"Roberta, nice of you to finally come home," he growls. His eyes travel up and down my body, hovering ever so slightly on my badge that is still clipped to the waistband of my pants. "Who's your friend?" It's ironic how Hank said the same exact thing, but coming from him, it had such a different meaning.

I stand up next to Robbie, placing my hand on the small of her back so she knows that I am there. "Erin Lindsay."

He nods, his lips tucked in between his teeth. "Let's go, Roberta. Inside, now." Robbie hesitates for a moment, but then hurries to get beside her father. He places his hand on her shoulder, and Robbie's eyes face falters for a minute, before putting a small smile on her face. I don't have a chance to say anything to her, because the next thing I know, I have a door slammed in my face.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed it! Don't forget to review, favorite, and followed in you like the chapter/story. I have already started writing the next chapter so hopefully it will be up soon!**

 **Next Chapter Preview: Erin sees Robbie a week later, and Antonio discovers some shocking news.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	9. Chapter 9

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **Thank you, guys, for all of the support for the last chapter! Let me just say that I'm not very happy with this chapter but I wanted to get it up for you. Hope you enjoy!**_

 **Erin –**

 **One week later**

Just as I am about to get out of my car and walk into Morrison Elementary for the S.A.C. class, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's a message from Hank.

 **Hank: Have you seen her yet?**

I don't need any more information to figure out that he is talking about Robbie. After I dropped her off last week, I went back to the house that I grew up in, and had a long conversation with Hank about the young girl. He confirmed my suspicions by saying that he, too, thought Robbie is being abused. He even put in an emergency phone call to his friend from DCFS, but he hasn't heard anything back, much to our dismay. For the rest of the week, I stayed close to my phone at all times, silently hoping that Robbie would call. But the phone never rang.

I let my fingers glide across the screen.

 **Me: Not yet, just got here. How's the case going?**

In the two seconds it takes for me to close the car door, my phone buzzes again.

 **Hank: Antonio just went to talk with one of his C.I.s. Let me know when you talk to Robbie.**

I write my name in the sign in book in the main office before responding.

 **Me: Will do. See you in a bit.**

I go down the familiar hallway, a path that I have grown to memorize, until I reach the classroom. I glance down at my watch, realizing that I am about ten minutes early. Mrs. Johannsen is gesturing to the board, her mouth moving quickly as she describes the picture, while the students look on with bored expressions. I let myself move to the classroom window, and am able to see Robbie, slouching over her desk in the back of the room.

Even though her hair is parted so some of it is covering her face, I can still see that the severity of her bruises from last week has decreased to a sickly green and yellow. That is all that is visible on her face, but even from where I am standing, I can see a light blue blossoming from the neck of her shirt.

I knock on the door, not caring that I am early any longer. I watch Mrs. Johannsen stop mid-sentence, and then gesture for someone to open the door. When the student does, I am met with twenty kids hastily putting their notebooks away. I ignore them, and look to Robbie, but she isn't looking at me. In fact, she is making an effort not to.

I say hello to the kids, and hello to Mrs. Johannsen, who moves out of my way to her own desk. I place my bag on the table and glance inside to see the work books that the class has been writing in for the past few weeks. The ones that hold practically useless information on things they most likely will never use in life. I tuck my lips between my teeth, mulling an idea over in my head, before closing the bag and placing it on the floor.

"We're going to do something a little different today." They all look displeased with this arrangement. "I want you all to put your desks in a large circle." It takes them a moment, and I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is even allowed, but soon, the desks are in a large circle, and just as I suspected, there is a spot large enough for me to slide another desk in next to Robbie. She rolls her eyes, and shrinks to the other side of her desk.

Resisting the urge to reach out and hug her, I clear my throat so the chatter stops. "I want to do this little exercise because I realized that all of these classes have been revolved around not getting yourself into trouble. But I know more than anyone that sometimes, you feel like putting yourself into that situation is the only choice."

The expression on the students' faces are varied. Some look bored, just like always. But the majority of them, including Mrs. Johannsen, are watching me with extreme curiosity. Robbie is still refusing to look at me, however I can tell that she is listening, which I am glad for. I take a deep breath, I have only told this story twice. Once when I was interrogated by the police, and the second time when I told Hank after I lived with the Voights for over two years. "When I was ten, I enrolled in an after-school program. It went until five o'clock, and in order to leave, a parent or guardian has to pick you up." I have gathered the attention of the rest of the kids, including Robbie, who is sneaking a look at me out of the corner of her eye. "It wasn't until seven o'clock did my mother finally come and pick me up. She was clearly drunk, and not at all capable of driving. Part of me was glad that my teacher didn't ask any questions when her car pulled up and I just got in, but another part of me wished that she had brought me over to the car and had talked to my mom."

A hand hesitantly rises from the far side of the circle. The owner of the hand is a sweet girl named Whitney, who seems to enjoy the class and is always attentive. I nod, telling her to ask her question, and glad that I can take a break from telling my story. "Didn't you say that you shouldn't get into a car with someone who is drinking?"

 _See, always listening._ That lesson came from a few weeks ago, and even I have forgotten them. "I absolutely said that, and if I knew that when I was your age I would've been in much better shape. With that being said, I was ten years old and I thought my mom would never hurt me." This isn't necessarily true, since I knew full well that when my mom was drinking or high, she was no longer my mom. She was Bunny: single woman with no responsibilities, and anything that happened to me during that time- she really didn't care. "I got into that car, and she ended up crashing into someone's mailbox. I am in no way trying to justify my reasoning for getting into that car, but if I had trusted someone enough to tell them what was going on, I would not have been in that accident. I would not have been brought into the police station and I would not have been forced to answer questions about my mother that I did not want to answer." I leave out the part about being thrown into foster care for a month, my third stint by that time, while my mom served her sentence in jail, and then fought tooth and nail (which I still to this day have no clue why) to get me back.

Mrs. Johannsen is watching me carefully, her eyes flicking from me to Robbie. "Now, tell me this: who could I have told about my mom so I didn't end up in that situation?"

Robbie has once again shifted her gaze to looking down at her lap. Anthony, who I still am holding a slight grudge against, raises his hand. "You could've told your teacher."

I nod, "Absolutely. Who else could I have told?"

The responses start rolling in: guidance counselors, other relatives, friends, and the last one is what I wanted to hear: a police officer. Of course, the answer comes from Whitney.

I ask her to repeat herself, and she does. Some of the students laugh at her answer, since most of them think police officers are just here to arrest them, but I shut those comments down. "Out of all of those people that you just mentioned, a police officer is probably the person you can trust the most. I understand that sometimes there are officers that have different opinions of the job, which will result in a different response, but the majority of police officers are people that you can trust with anything. And not just trust, but they can help you. They _will_ help you. The key is to let them."

I am so invested in getting this message across, that I visibly jump when Robbie pushes herself out of her chair. She moves so quickly that her desk collides with the linoleum, and the girl is out of the classroom in a flash.

Desperately, I look towards the teacher, who immediately motions for me to follow her. The other students are whispering amongst themselves, already formulating rumors as to why Robbie has left.

I push myself out of my seat, grabbing my phone and keys from the table when I get up there. The door that Robbie slammed open is still cracked, so I am able to slip out, trying the hear where her feet might have carried her. It doesn't take me long to figure out that she went towards the main entrance, and I find myself running to catch up with her. For a small girl, she sure can run fast.

When I leave the school, I can see Robbie a few paces in front of me up the school driveway. She keeps whipping her head around, wondering if I am following her. When she notices I am, she picks up the pace.

My breath is rattling in my chest, but I keep going, determined to catch up with her. When I reach the entrance of the parking lot, I make a split decision to go get my car, figuring that I'll be able to cover more ground that way. My hand is shaking when I put the key in ignition, but I am instantly grateful for the vehicle, since I can now catch my breath.

It takes two seconds for me to catch up with Robbie, who has tears streaming down her face. "What are you doing, kiddo?" I slow the car down to a crawl, and roll down the window so that I can talk with her. She has stopped running, but won't turn and look at me. "Robbie, what is going on?"

When I got into the classroom this morning, I was obviously not expecting warm hugs and an abundance of kind greetings. What I was expecting, though, was at least a smile: some sort of acknowledgment of our time spent together. Something to show that our bonding, if you can even call it that, happened.

" _Please,_ " I beg, "Talk to me."

Her chest is rising and falling heavily with each strained breath. "Stay." Shaky breath. "Away." Shaky breath. It looks as if it hurts her to say this, since the tears start falling heavier, making a path through the obvious concealer on her face.

"Robbie, please tell me what is going on. I can help you." I feel like this is the fiftieth time that I've said this, but if that is how many times it will take to make her open, then I will say if fifty more times over.

Robbie turns onto a side street, and I start struggling to keep the car at her pace. We are only a block from her house, and if she doesn't get in the car soon, I won't be able to stop her from going inside.

Suddenly, Robbie stops. She whips her body around and comes over to the car, leaning up against the passenger side. "You don't get it, do you?" My eyes widen, I have no clue what she is going to say. " _You_ are the problem, not me!" Her lip is trembling, but she isn't stopping. " _You_ are the one that keeps following me. _You_ are the one that is obsessed with me, and is stirring up all of this trouble with my teachers, and the principal, and the police for God's sake." Robbie laughs in disbelief. "And the _social worker._ Do you know how much trouble I got in?"

"Robbie that isn't what I intended. If you would let me help you…"

Her face contorts to a mixture of anger and confusion, "That's not what I'm talking about! My parents are _fine._ I am fine. And you sending a social worker to my house on a hunch, is not okay!"

I try again, "Robbie…"

"Enough! Detective Lindsay, Erin, stalker, whatever you want me to call you, just stay away!"

Her eyes are clouded over with tears when she turns on her heels and starts walking back down the street. Frozen, I stay put, with my foot hovering above the gas pedal, watching as the distance between us grows further. And that distance? I caused that. I pushed for her to open up when she clearly isn't ready.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my emotions. I don't normally get upset, but when I do, it is over something that I care about. Robbie is definitely one of these instances.

The young girl has disappeared from my sight, and I start driving again, turning onto Robbie's street, just in time to see her crossing her front yard. I pull up slightly, just so I can see into her house. She looks around, before pulling open her front door and slipping inside. It slams shut behind her, and in a matter of seconds, the same man that I 'met' last week appears in the doorway. The same man with the light stubble, and the greasy black curls. Even his outfit is the same, just with a few additional stains. Our eyes meet across the yard, before he turns around and goes further into the house.

I slam the door open to the 21st district, pushing past some uniforms and heading towards the stairs.

"Erin! Are you okay?" Platt asks from the desk. I offer a half wave, before storming through the gate into the intelligence unit.

The men of my team look up from their desks. Everyone seems to be here, all except Antonio, who's desk is empty. Hank is in his office, and the whiteboard is covered with possible suspects and timelines, but there still isn't one solid answer.

I know my face is red from crying when I make my way over to my desk. I sit down, practically throwing my phone and keys down on to the wooden surface. They are all watching me, especially Jay. My foot is bouncing up and down, and when I can't take their stares anymore, I make long strides until I am in Hank's office.

"What happened?" He immediately looks up from his computer, and gestures to the seat in front of his desk.

The tears start welling in my eyes again, "I don't know what I'm doing wrong with Robbie, Hank. She doesn't want my help even though I _know_ there is something going on. It's like she wants to be in that situation."

"You know more than anyone that there is more to it than that, Erin." He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on top of his chest.

"I know but-."

The gate coming into the intelligence unit slams open, and Antonio comes in carrying a picture. Hank holds up a finger, and goes into the main room just as Antonio is taping up the picture. I wipe beneath my eyes, and join my team. But as I leave the office, the picture taped up makes me stop in my tracks.

"This is an age progression photo of Sean Price, one of my C.I.s tipped me off about him. He was a drug lord in California, of all places. He moved to Chicago about ten years ago, under the alias Gregor Tucker, but didn't register for anything. No license, mortgage, bank statements, nothing," Antonio pauses, and my heart races in my chest. "According to my C.I., he's been getting shipments of heroin that have passed through multiple dealers before the stash reaches him, for the past six months. There are also reports of the people in his crew getting shipments of strychnine. It's a whole system, boss."

Hank rubs his chin; my eyes do not leave the photo. "Did you get an address?"

Antonio nods, "558 Harrison Ave."

My stomach churns. The photo is haunting in itself, but even more so when I've seen the person in real life. The same light stubble and greasy black curls. The same evil glint in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. "Erin, you okay?" Jay asks from across the room.

My voice catches in my throat, "That's Robbie's dad."

 **Robbie –**

"So, still bringing your cop friend around?" I jump, the deep voice startling me. I thought I had successfully made my way into the house without anyone noticing. My mom was passed out on the couch, and I naturally assumed my Dad was with her. I guessed wrong.

With my back turned to him, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "I didn't bring her anywhere."

He laughs, "You're trying to tell me she was parked in front of my house just because?" _I told her not follow me, now look what is going to happen._

"I didn't tell her anything. She followed me home. That's it." I try advancing towards the other side of the room, but a hand comes up and grabs my wrist. "I promise, I didn't tell her anything." He yanks harder, and spins me around so I am facing him. I feel my palms start to get sweaty. His breath reeks of liquor and his pupils are so small they are barely visible. I instantly become more afraid: it's one thing for him to be in a right state of mind, but when he is drunk and high, it opens a whole new evil inside of him. "I swear."

He moves his hand further up on his arm, until he is able to yank me down to my knees. I yelp in pain. "You know, I'm getting sick and tired of you lying to me." He smiles, "You think you're so sneaky, but I know that it was you who told them. I know it was you who are bringing them by MY house! I know it is you, tipping them off about the drugs!"

"I-I didn't. I swear." His hands are shaking, more from the drugs than the nerves.

"Enough!" I flinch backward as his hand strikes me across my face, right where he hit me yesterday. He reaches his hand behind his back, and pulls something from behind his back. When he brings it back around, I am staring into the barrel of a black gun. "I'm going to make you regret you ever lied to me."

 **I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! The next one will be intense, and hopefully I will have it up by the end of the week. If you liked it, please don't forget to review, follow, and favorite the story! Thanks for all your support!**

 **Next time:**

 **Erin gets herself into some trouble….**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	10. Chapter 10

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **Thank you all so, so much for your support on the last chapter. This next one gets pretty graphic, so please read with caution. Hope you guys like it!**_

 **Erin -**

"Take a right!" I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, my gun in my holster, the Velcro of the bullet proof vest scratching my neck, and my badge digging into my hip. Hank is leading the Intelligence unit through the busy streets of Chicago, not caring about how many lights he runs or how many accidents he almost causes. The two other cars are following closely behind, our static going crazy on the walkie talkies.

My heart is racing. I let Robbie go into a house with a drug dealer. A murderer. Her father has been right under our noses, and all the while I let her go back home to him. _How could I be so stupid?_

I scan the street, my hand already gripping the door handle of the SUV. "Erin, you are not going in there without back up." He turns onto another street - three blocks out. "Erin, do not go in there without back up." I continue to ignore him and sit closer to the edge. I'm jumping out of the car as soon as it stops, and nothing is going to stop me.

The early darkness of an impending storm casts a shadow over Chicago. Lights have flickered on inside of houses, creating a blur of yellow as we speed past them. One block.

Over the walkie talkie, Jay's voice crackles to life, "Boss, are we breaching?"

The man that has been my father for the majority of my life looks across the car to me, before putting the device to his mouth. "There is a little girl in there. We do whatever we have to do to get her out." He pauses, "Al, get the sniper, we might need it."

We finally turn onto Robbie's street, and all of the trucks screech to a stop. I jump out, pulling my weapon from my belt. I crouch slightly, taking in the scene. In Robbie's room, the light is on, and a tall shadow stands above another dark figure. There is some movement, before a scream cuts through the silence like a knife.

I don't hesitate. My feet pound against the overgrown grass and I ignore the shouts from Hank and Jay. I slam my body into the front door, making it pop open. I don't announce myself, but creep down the hallway, until I see the source of the light. With my gun raised, I step into the doorway of Robbie's bedroom. The already small girl seems to have diminished a great deal in size as she is bent over the bed, her hands covering her head. Sean Price has a gun in his hand, switching between it, and his knee, to collide with Robbie's buckling body.

"Drop your weapon!" I scream, finger on the trigger. The footsteps stop behind me, and Jay is next to me, his arms in the same stance.

Price looks up, a fresh cut on his lip. His expression barely changes, before he yanks Robbie up by the neck of her shirt, and presses the gun to her head. "Do it," he says, "I dare you."

My heart sinks as I take in Robbie's face. It's already swelling, her right eye pressed shut, and a large gash on the side of her head. She seems tired, like she can barely keep her head up, but her not-so-swollen eye is pleading with me, her lip quivering. Her dad sticks the gun harder against her temple, "You shoot me, I shoot her."

I don't lower my gun. "I'm not putting my gun down until you put yours down." I'm surprised at how steady my voice is. Usually, I'm fine in these situations. But now, it is all different. I've grown to care for Robbie, and I am not going down without a fight.

Suddenly, he starts laughing. Not a laugh that sounds like it was caused by a joke, but a laugh that is an "I know something you don't," laugh. He pulls harder on Robbie's hair, so she is forced to look up at him. "This is your cop friend, isn't it, Roberta?" My stomach churns at the mention of her full name; _so, that's why she was so upset when Anthony called her that._ When Robbie doesn't answer, he yanks harder. "I asked you a question." She nods slowly, cringing in pain. "That's what I thought."

Behind me, Jay shifts slightly, coming further into the room. I side step to the left, causing Price to move further away from the door, and more across from us, than in front of us. He's closer to the window now, and I immediately know what is going to happen.

"Stay back!" He flinches, and grabs on tighter to Robbie's body. She has tears streaming down her face.

I want to run over to her and wrap her in my arms, but I know that will be deadly. No question about it. So, I stay put, focusing on my aim in case worse comes to worse. He laughs again, "You know, I didn't even want a bratty kid- that was all her mother's idea. And now, it comes back to bite me." He crouches down to the level where her ears in, and screams at the top of his lungs, "I WOULDN'T BE HERE IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU!" He stands back up,

It all happens in slow motion. There is a slight whistle as the bullet breaks through the glass and collides with his head. Blood spews in all directions, splattering Jay, Robbie and me. I stagger backwards, shocked by the impact. Sean Price falls to the ground, and without the additional strength to stay upright, Robbie collapses beneath him, landing with a muffled cry on the bloody carpet.

I hand my gun over to Jay, just as the rest of the unit comes running into the bedroom. They stop at the doorway, just as I am moving Price's body off Robbie. She's crying now, the exhaustion making her unable to move any part of her injured body. The shirt that I just saw on her an hour ago, is torn across her body, and she cries out even louder when I lay a hand gingerly on her shoulder. "Robbie, it's me, Erin. You're safe now." She cries even harder, and keeps her face buried so I can't see it.

Hank has found his way into the bedroom, and stands far enough away from Robbie so as not to scare her, but close enough so that he can hand me his jacket. I lay it over her shoulders, and carefully slide my arms under her legs and torso, lifting gently until she is safely in my arms. Robbie curls her arms into her chest, and buries her head into my arm. The men in my unit avert their eyes, and move out of the way of the door.

Robbie is trembling in my arms, the lights of the ambulance illuminating her face. Gabi and Sylvie Brett from Firehouse 51 meet me at the entrance of the house with a stretcher, and blue plastic gloves on their hands.

"What'd we got?"

I shake my head, trying to form a coherent response. "She's hurt pretty badly, slipping in and out of consciousness I think."

Reluctantly, I lay her down on the stretcher, keeping the jacket over her. I start to remove my arms from her body, but Robbie lifts a shaky hand, and grasps onto mine. She licks her lips, wincing in pain, "Don't."

I want to wrap her in my arms and tell her that I'll never leave her, but Gabi doesn't seem to like that idea, "Erin, we have to go."

Looking from Gabi, to Sylvie, and then to Robbie, I say, "I'm coming with you."

 **1 Hour Later**

The uncomfortable fabric of the waiting room chair, is hot against my pants. I can hear the machines beeping from out here, my finger tapping to the beat of it against my thigh.

When we got to med, Robbie's blood pressure dropped, and they took her in for scans. A little while ago, they told me she had a few broken ribs, a concussion, and a ruptured spleen- which is what they are treating right now in the operating room. Regardless, Robbie took a major beating that could've killed her.

Hank, Al, and Antonio are sitting across from me, while Jay, Atwater, and Ruzek sit in the same row, Jay with his hand in mine. They came over about twenty minutes ago, after they cleared the crime scene and officially charged Sean Price with the murder of the three teens, in addition to Robbie's mom, who was found dead in their living room from an overdose. This poor girl lost everything today. Everything except for me.

 **So, I know this one was pretty rough, and also short, but I felt it was a good place to leave it. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to review, favorite, and follow the story. Hopefully, I will be able to update soon. Thanks again for all of your support!**

 **Next Time: "Erin, I'm sorry… There were some complications."**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **KDanceWriteDream**


	11. Chapter 11

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **Thank you so much for your continued support! Sorry this one took a little while to write, I had a crazy week. Hopefully I will be able to update again before the end of the weekend, and next week will be much better for updates as well!**_

 **Erin –**

"I need to go to the bathroom." I can't stand the silence. I can't stand catching Hank's eye every time that I happen to look up in his direction. He is whispering to Al, talking about God knows what when I stand from my seat.

I step over my co-workers' feet, and follow the signs that are pointing me in the direction of the bathroom. I start to grab the door handle, but I hear footsteps behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Jay coming towards me. He doesn't say anything to me, just crosses his arms over his chest.

"She's going to be okay, Erin. You did everything you could."

I hold out one hand, tears starting to brim in my eyes, "Jay, I really can't handle a pep talk right now."

He pulls his lips so they form a tight line. "I know you're worried about Robbie, but I'm worried about you."

His kindness and reluctance to give into my attitude makes me smirk through the sadness. I abandon the bathroom door, and walk over to Jay, letting him engulf me in a hug. He presses a kiss to the top of my head as I fight back the tears. If there is one thing that I hate more than letting myself get upset, it is letting other people see me getting upset.

I'm not sure how long we stay in that position, and I honestly don't care. When I am with Jay, the entire world melts away, and at times like this, I wish it would stay that way. Unfortunately, it doesn't stay that way for long, because someone clears their throat behind us.

I pull away from Jay, wiping the few shed tears from my cheek. Watching us from the entrance of the bathroom is Natalie Manning, the pediatrician that works at Med. Dressed in maroon scrubs with her stethoscope around her neck, she smiles sweetly. I've had a few conversations with Dr. Manning at Molly's, but we really haven't engaged any other social activities.

When the ambulance brought Robbie in, we were greeted by Will and Natalie, who both ran beside the gurney, half listening to what the paramedics and I were telling them, and half examining the bleeding child. It didn't take them long to rush her off to scans, and through the whole time, I have never seen anyone act as brave as Robbie was.

"Hi, Erin," Dr. Manning says solemnly. My heart begins to pound in my chest, afraid of what she might say. "Sergeant Voight said you were back here."

I force a small smile onto my face, but I know there is no chance in it masking my concern. "How is she?"

Natalie looks down at the dirty linoleum. "Unfortunately, Erin, there were some complications." I bite the inside of my cheek, and Jay's arm finds its way onto my shoulder, the both of us already expecting the worse. When she realizes that we aren't going to comment, Natalie continues. "We took her into emergency surgery to repair her spleen, but when we got in there, the internal bleeding was much worse than we had expected. We had to remove the spleen and her blood pressure dropped even more. However, she pulled through."

I let out a quick laugh of relief, covering my mouth with my hands. "So, she's going to be okay?"

Dr. Manning nods, "She is in recovery right now. She hasn't woken up from the anesthesia yet, but she should be any moment now, and when she does we are going to take her down for some additional imaging."

I knit my eyebrows, "I thought you did that when we got here?"

"When we found her splenic rupture, we took her right to surgery. We didn't have time to do the x-rays or the CT."

Jay rubs my back slightly, his voice answering for me, "Thank you, Natalie."

She acknowledges Jay slightly, but keeps her eyes trained on me. "Erin, when we were prepping her for surgery, Robbie asked if you would be in the hospital when she woke up."

My eyes widen, "What did you tell her?"

Natalie holds out her hands, attempting to calm me down. "I told her that you were not going anywhere. And she didn't say it specifically, but I got the impression that she wanted you there when she woke up."

My heart swells. Of course, I wasn't planning on going anywhere until Robbie was cleared to leave the hospital, and even then, I wouldn't be letting her leave alone, but regardless, she _asked_ for me. "What room is she in?"

"She is on the post – op floor, Room 213."

I make my way through the walls, flipping my phone in my hands. I watch the room numbers increase, until 213 is on the door in front of me. Laying ghostly pale underneath a mess of blankets and sheets, is Robbie, her dark brown hair sprawled over her pillow. Her face is covered in blues and greens, her eye still swollen. A cannula sits beneath her nose.

I creep quietly into the room without anyone else as a way not to overwhelm her. I go over to a chair and moving it so it is next to the bed. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor fills the room, but so does Robbie's forced breathing. I gently take her hand in mine, carefully avoiding the IV needle that is in her hand.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, "I am so, sorry Robbie. I should have helped you more." I want to tell her that I should have forced her to come back to the precinct with me, that I should have never let her go back into her house, but it is too late. She is laying in a hospital bed, broken, because of those horrible people. "I should've done more."

Like a butterfly's wing, her eyelash flutters so softly that I almost miss it. Her throat contracts as she tries to swallow, and her tongue pokes between her lips, moistening them. She shifts in bed, followed by a flash of pain on her face.

"Robbie, sweetie, don't move, okay? It'll only make it hurt more." She seems to obey my request, but her eyes are still closed. "Kiddo, you're okay. You're in the hospital."

She opens her mouth, "Erin?" she forces out, her voice croaking with effort.

I gingerly move my hand to her head, sweeping a piece out of her face, "I'm right here, kiddo. Right here."

Finally, she opens her eyes, or at least as much as she can. The harsh light causes her to flinch, but slowly, she is able to look up at me, a small smile on her lips, "You came."

I laugh, just like I did with Dr. Manning when she told me that Robbie was okay. "Of course I did, Robbie. I'm not going anywhere." A small tear rolls down the side of her face, and she has to squeeze her eyes shut to stop it. "Hey," I move closer to her bed, "You're safe. You don't ever have to go back there."

Robbie tilts her head against the pillow so she can see me better. She hesitates before asking, "My Dad is dead, right?"

I glance down, not ready to meet her gaze, "It was the only way to stop him from hurting you even more, Robbie."

She closes her eyes, visualizing the day's previous events. "He um, he fell on top of me. But I was watching you the entire time, you didn't shoot him."

I hold her hand tighter, "My team was able to get him from outside. I'm sorry Robbie."

The young girl attempts to shake her head, but quickly stops because of the pain, "I'm fine. I just… I just needed to know."

Searching her eyes for something else that can clue me in to what she is feeling, I find myself stroking her hand. "You were so brave in there, kiddo."

Robbie smirks. "I didn't even know what was going on; it wasn't that hard to play dumb." When I knit my eyebrows in confusion, she clarifies. "I was just as surprised as he was when you guys showed up; I hadn't told you anything so I wasn't sure why you were even there."

She motions for the cup of water on the bedside table, and I get it for her, slipping the straw into her mouth. When she is down, I say, "Your father was involved with a lethal heroin ring. We have been investigating him for a while, and we _literally_ found out it was him about five minutes after I had gotten back to work after I brought you back to the house."

Robbie squints, "What are you talking about?"

I take a deep breath, "There were some teens that overdosed on heroin laced with strychnine. We found out that it was your father who brought the drug ring from California to Chicago. That's why we were going to your house, Robbie."

She starts to shake her head again, this time not caring about the pain. "My father _killed_ kids?"

"In a way, yes."

More tears start to show themselves in her eyes. "D-did my mom know? Is she okay?" My silence is enough of an answer for her, "No!" She raises her hands, squeezing them tight against her face.

I have to stay in my chair and continue to stroke her hand, wishing I could gather her into my arms without hurting her. "We found her in your living room, Robbie. She overdosed, too."

She lets out a choked sob. "I hated her. I hated her my entire life for not standing up to my father. Now, she's dead." Robbie brings her hands up to her hair, grabbing a fistful, "She's so stupid! Why would she do that?!"

I push myself out of the chair and sit carefully on her bed. "Robbie, I have asked myself the same thing so many times. My mother was constantly partying and putting herself in danger, and for a while, I blamed myself for that. I blamed myself when she was arrested, I blamed myself when she brought home new boyfriends that would beat the crap out of her," Robbie looks at me through tear-clouded eyes, creating prisms from her blue orbs, "But when I met Hank, I learned that it wasn't my fault. It was _never_ my fault.And it is _not_ your fault. Do you understand me?"

It takes her a while, but she finally nods, and takes another shaky breath. "I always thought, that one these days, she was going to snap out of it, and realize that she actually has a daughter. We were going to get out. We were _both_ going to be safe."

"I get that more than anyone Robbie, I really do. There were times when I got down on my knees and _begged_ for my mom to pull herself together. But it wasn't until I decided that I needed to get out, that I got out. And now, you don't have to worry about that, Robbie. You're safe. No one is ever going to hurt you again."

 _ **I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! If you liked the chapter, don't forget to review, favorite, and follow the story! Thank you so much for your continued support.**_

 _ **Next Time: Another teen overdoses…**_

 _ **Until Next Time,**_

 _ **KDanceWriteDream**_


	12. Chapter 12

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **So, I lied about the preview on the last chapter. I decided I needed to push that event back a few chapters. Trust me, it wouldn't have fit. Thank you so much for your continued support!**_

 **Erin –**

A piece of Robbie's hair is tickling my nose. Her head is laying on my shoulder, a steady breath finally overcoming her. She is sleeping on her back, her arms on her chest in a way not to cause pain. Her body is so small, that both of us can fit comfortably on the bed. The lights are dimmed since Robbie was saying how it was hurting her eyes, and the shades are pulled.

About a half hour after I came up to see Robbie, Dr. Manning came to bring her down for the rest of her scans. I couldn't go into the room with her, but I was able to wait outside. They didn't take long. In fact, they went quicker than I thought they would. In no time, we were back in her room.

Beside me, my phone buzzes. I stiffen, afraid the notification might have woken Robbie up, but when she doesn't even twitch, I pick it up. I am surprised to see that it is only three o'clock in the afternoon since I feel like it has been an eternity since I've left the hospital. Below the time, there is a text from Hank.

 **H: How's she doing?**

I struggle to text back with my left hand, since my right hand is around Robbie's sleeping body and I don't want to wake her up. But I finally manage:

 **Me: Sleeping. Dr. is looking over scans**

I hit the power button once to put the phone to sleep, right as it vibrates again.

 **H: Halstead said she asked for you?**

 **Me:**

I can already see Hank rolling his eyes with a smirk on his face. He hates emojis, always has. But somehow, Camille, who always added at least five emojis to each text, and I have taught him to at least tolerate the animations.

Robbie turns onto her left side, putting her throat against my shoulder. She takes a moment to adjust, before her eyes flutter open. I gently rub her back, afraid that I might hurt her. With her big, chocolate brown eyes, she glances over at my phone. "Who are you talking to?"

My hand moves up to her hair, and I start to work the knots out with my fingers. "It's just Hank. He was wondering how you are doing."

She tilts her head down towards the sheets, "Is he mad at me?"

I tilt my head to the side so I can get a proper view of her peeking up at me. She can't be serious, can she? "Why would he be mad at you, kiddo?"

Robbie plays with her gown, rubbing the material between her fingers. I can feel the nerves radiating off of her. "I didn't listen to you. M-my dad could've hurt you and Jason."

Not being able to help myself, I snort. "Jason?"

She finally looks up at me, "Yeah, your partner. Wasn't he in the room with us?"

I laugh again, and she just stares at me with wide eyes. "Very close. My partner's name is Jay, and neither of us got hurt, Robbie. And even if we did, that is our job. To protect you."

One side of Robbie's mouth turns up into a half-smile, like she is still scared to show any _real_ emotion. Still, it's progress. "I'm sorry. My brain is still a little foggy." She takes another breath, "But he could've shot you guys. He could've shot _you._ Hank could've lost his _daughter._ "

I push myself up farther so I am sitting straight up and to the side so I can see her completely. I'm not exactly sure how to phrase this in a way that she can understand. To the people I work with, I could explain it with no problem, but to a fragile girl who is blaming herself for her parent's actions, I need to be a little more careful. "I spent quite a few years training myself for those types of situations. And no, not all training is fool proof, in fact, none of it is, but Robbie, even if something had happened, it would not have been your fault. You were not the one holding the gun." She once again turns her head away from me. "And sweetie, Hank was just as worried about you as I was."

This catches her attention. Robbie isn't used to having anyone care about her, but with two new familial figures in her life, this is all a new scene. Imagine her reaction when she finds out the whole intelligence unit is downstairs waiting to see her.

"Why?"

I brush another piece of hair from her face. "Because he likes you, Robbie. He cares about you. We both do."

She roughly rubs her eye, an eyelash landing on her cheek. She starts playing with her fingers, before she gains the courage to say what she is thinking. "I know he's probably working, and he's probably busy, but do you think you could ask him to stop by after work?"

A grin breaks out onto my face, and I resist the urge to gather her in a hug. "I will text him right now." And I do. I pull my phone out from underneath my leg and open the iMessage app.

 **Me: Someone wants to see you.**

The three "typing" dots immediately appear before they are replaced by another message.

 **Hank: Be right up.**

When I put the phone down, Robbie is looking at me expectantly. "He was right downstairs. He'll be up in a minute."

Her expression completely changes. She looks around quickly, from the walls of her room to her arms that are covered in bruises, cuts, and indelible scars. I'm sure her heart is pounding against her ribcage since her chest is rising and falling quickly.

"Hey," I whisper, taking her hands in mine. "I can tell him you're not ready. It is not a big deal."

She shakes her head, but her teary eyes give me a different answer. I look towards the door, and when no one is coming, a get up off the bed, walking over to one of the chairs where a blanket lays. Unfolding it, I put it over Robbie's shoulders, allowing it to cover her arms.

The first-time Hank arrested me, I was wearing a sweatshirt. I remember because he kept trying to push up the sleeves so he could put the hand cuffs on. I wouldn't let him, because I knew he would ask questions. Questions I didn't want to answer. He didn't charge me with resisting arrest, thankfully, but he did later tell me that the only reason he didn't was because he saw me flinch every time he touched my shoulder, which had a pretty nasty cut on it. Still, it is not fun showing people those types of things, especially when you barely know them.

She silently thanks me, just as there is a light tap on the door. We both look up to see Hank standing in the doorway, his hands in his jacket pockets. He's smiling one of the smiles that comes out when he talks about his family, or some of the kids that he has helped, which in turn makes me smile. "You really had us worried for a while, kid."

Robbie takes a moment, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, but then looks up to face the man. When she doesn't say anything, Hank turns to me. I sit down beside her, and grasp her hand. "She's been a real trooper, I don't think I would have been able to deal with all of those needles."

He lets out a gruff laugh, starting to walk further into the room. He motions to me with his chin, "Did Erin watch? She never could handle the sight of needles."

This finally gets a reaction out of Robbie, who smirks. "She was very interested in the floor."

I feign being hurt, "I beg to differ!"

Hank raises his eyebrows, "You're joking, right?" He turns to Robbie, "There were mandatory flu shots at the district a couple of years ago, and Erin practically fainted." I roll my eyes while he continues laughing, "When she woke up, she was as pale as a ghost."

Robbie smiles to herself, looking down at her hands. Hank glances across the bed at me, where I just shrug. I try again, "So Hank, Robbie and I were talking, and she thinks that you are mad at her."

He leans forward in the chair, trying to catch Robbie's eye. "Now why would you think that?"

I give Robbie a chance to answer, but she never does. I keep watching her as I say, "She thinks that you are mad at her because I could've gotten hurt."

She is watching Hank from the corner of her eye, but my father is staring right at her. "Robbie, can you look at me for a second?"

I rub her hand slightly, and she raises her head, taking her time to finally face him. "If Erin had gotten hurt, do you know who I would be mad at?" Robbie slowly shakes her head. "I would be mad at Erin."

Her eyebrows knit together, "Why? She didn't do anything wrong."

Hank runs his hand over his mouth, "There is a certain protocol that the police have to follow before entering a home. Even without protocol, my number one rule is to wait for backup," Robbie is considering this carefully, unsure of what he is going to say next. "When we got to your house, Erin did not wait for backup. She just ran in. Luckily, Jay was right behind her, or something very bad might've happened. But if she had gotten shot, that would not have been your fault. If anyone from my team had gotten shot, that would not have been your fault. Last time I checked, you were not the one holding the gun."

"That's what I told her," I mumble. A silent tear collides with the pristine sheets.

"And let me tell you something: if Erin had not run in there when we pulled up, someone else would have. She has been going on and on about you for the past month. We _all_ care about you, Robbie. We were all worried."

She shakes her head, and looks from Hank to me. "But why? That's what I don't understand. I was mean to you, I didn't want you coming near me. Why get your whole team involved?"

I take a deep breath, and unlock my phone. My finger taps the photo album, and when inside, I select a picture of the entire unit at Molly's for Jay's birthday last month. I point at my partner, and tilt the phone so Robbie can see. "I was talking to Jay after one of your classes about how I was worried about you. He told me to follow my gut on what I thought was happening with you." I move my finger over to Antonio. "This is Antonio. He has two kids. His son, Diego, is only a few years older than you. He said that if something was happening with his kids, he would want someone to look into it." I zoom in on Atwater and Ruzek. "Kevin and Adam? They tried getting me your DCFS file after I took you to the hospital. They couldn't get it because your social worker wouldn't give it to us without a warrant, but they still tried." I finally point to Al. "This is Al. He's Hank's best friend, and more or less my uncle. After I brought you home that night we ate dinner at Hank's, he came over and we talked about whether or not we could go inside your house to make sure you were okay. We were all worried about you, Robbie. We all care."

Robbie wipes beneath her eyes, just as Hank moves a little closer to her, "They have all been sitting downstairs, waiting to make sure you were okay."

She glances up at him, "They are down there right now?"

Hank nods, "They haven't left once."

I feel myself become overwhelmed by extreme love for my team. They never disappoint. "You're stuck with us, kiddo, whether you like it or not."

 _ **Okay so I feel like I need to explain my reasoning behind a couple of things.**_

 _ **1\. I know that Hank is acting a lot softer than he does in the show, but in my head, this is how he acted when Erin was younger and just getting to know him. I feel like he needs to be cautious and not as rough around Robbie as he is around the other adults.**_

 _ **2\. This one concerns Jay. Since Robbie only met him once, and even then it wasn't for very long, it seems like she wouldn't be as comfortable around him as she is with Hank. But don't worry, Robbie will meet Jay in the next chapter and the rest of the team soon after.**_

 _ **I hope you guys liked the chapter, and I assure you that they will be out of the hospital in the chapter after the next. I hope you guys enjoyed, and if you have questions, comments, or concerns, don't forget to leave a review, and if you liked the story/chapter, favorite and follow the story!**_

 _ **Next Time: Robbie formally meets Jay, and she gets her test results back…**_

 _ **Until Next Time,**_

 _ **KDanceWriteDream**_


	13. Chapter 13

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **Thank you so much for your continued support! Sorry this one took a little while to write, I had a couple crazy weeks. This chapter is kind of short as it was a filler chapter, and I also decided not to have Robbie see Jay. That will – sort of – happen next chapter. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it!**_

 **Erin –**

"We got Robbie's scans back." Dr. Manning stands at the entrance of the room with a clipboard in her arms, her hair pulled to the back of her head. I am still sitting beside Robbie on her bed, the two of us talking with Hank about her classmates. Beside me, Robbie sits up straighter. "They CT showed that the internal bleeding has stopped, so we can conclude that the splenectomy was a success." I rub the side of Robbie's arm, glad that that part is resolved. Natalie takes a step deeper into the room, "We can confirm the Robbie has a mild concussion and three broken ribs, both of which can heal on their own. We have her on some mild pain medication right now, so hopefully, Robbie, you will start feeling some relief."

She takes a shaky breath, "But?"

Dr. Manning smirks, "But, your arm is broken, so we are going to have to take you out of that sling, and into a cast. There is also something that I wanted to talk to you about, Robbie."

Robbie shifts next to me, and avoids looking at any of the adults in the room. "Is everything okay?" I ask, flicking my eyes over to Hank.

"Robbie's scans showed quite a few improperly-healed fractures. I looked at her file, and I found that when she came in a few weeks ago, Dr. Halstead did document those, but I just wanted to clarify that you weren't feeling anything from those injuries."

I look down at Robbie, "Did anything worry you, Natalie?"

She sits down on one of the chairs, "Well, sometimes, these types of fractures can cause some problems in the future, but if they are a problem now, then we need to take care of them. So, Robbie…"

I squeeze her hand beneath the covers, and she shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

The doctor smiles softly, "Alright then." She looks down at her clipboard and then parts her mouth to say something else, but she is interrupted by the shrill ring of Hank's cell phone.

He pulls it out of his pocket, and with a gruff, "Excuse me," he leaves the room.

Dr. Manning picks up where she left off, "I think in about three weeks, I want you to come back in and get a full physical, to see how everything is healing. And I think in about one or two days, you should be able to go home." The smile on Natalie's face does not even slightly resemble the scared look on Robbie's face. If I had to guess, it was at the mention of _home._

I break the awkward silence, "Thank you, Natalie."

She nods, and leaves the room, walking around Hank who I assume is still talking on the phone. Robbie speaks up from beside me, "Erin?"

I let my hand carefully stroke her hair, "What's up, kiddo?"

"You were in foster care, right?"

Her question surprises me, but I try to keep my answer as steady as my hand in her hair. "Uh, yeah, multiple times. Why do you ask?"

She leans her head into my hand. "Well that's where I'm going to end up, right? Both my parents are dead, I have no clue who my grandparents are, and I'm pretty sure I don't have any other aunts or uncles," she takes a deep breath, "Is it as bad as everyone says it is?"

 _Is it as bad as everyone says it is?_ No, it's worse. It There is no one you can talk to, you never have a say. It's a constant fear of being moved to another foster home, or being moved back to your bio parents' house. "Robbie, right now, you just need to focus on healing and getting better. Okay?"

"But-."

The hospital room door opens, and Hank pokes his head in, "Erin, can you come out here for a second?"

I purse my lips, and nod. I unwind myself from Robbie's body, "I will be right back, we will talk about this in a minute." Tears dance in her eyes as I get out of her bed, almost crashing to the floor when my sleeping leg tingles.

When I go out into the hall, my eyebrows raise, and I am greeted by my entire team. I close the door behind me, and stand in between Jay and Hank. "What's going on?"

The men in my unit look around at eachother, none of them wanting to admit what is going on. Finally, Jay speaks up, "There was another overdose, Erin."

My eyebrows crinkle in confusion, "What are you talking about? We got Price."

Antonio shifts on his feet, "There were other peoples' belongings in Robbie's house, Erin. We think Price was working with someone else."

I look back at the room, "So, Robbie's in danger?"

Hank puts his hands in his pockets, "Erin, Robbie needs to tell us who these people are."

I scoff, looking to Jay for help, "She is _scared._ She isn't going to want to answer questions about her parents, guys."

Jay puts his hand on the small of my back, "Robbie is the only one who knows what went on in that house, Erin. We need her help."

"And she needs to know we aren't just using her!" I turn to Hank, the only person who could _possibly_ understand, "Robbie just asked me what foster care was like, Hank. She is afraid that I am just going to kick her to the curb."

"You're joking, right?" Jay asks. "There is no way you are letting this girl go, Er. You've told her that from the start."

I shake my head, "It's not that simple, Jay. And seriously, if I ask her to live with us right before we question her about her parents' friends, she is going to think that that is the _only_ reason she has a shot."

Hank squeezes my shoulder, "One thing at a time. I will call my friend with DCFS and get Robbie a safe place to stay. Antonio, I want you and Atwater to go back to the house and see if there is anything else that could identify these pricks. Al, Ruzek, see if the lab got any prints of DNA off of the house. Erin, Halstead, go talk to Robbie."

The team disperses to their various tasks, Hank once again pressing his phone to his ear. I turn to Jay, the only one left standing with me. "Are you okay with this?"

He wraps his arms around my neck, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "We are going to give that girl a life living."

I pull away from him, and smile, my eyes filled with tears of pure happiness. "I love you, Jay Halstead."

"And I love you, Erin Lindsay."

 _ **How'd you guys like it? Hopefully I can update soon. Thanks again for all of your support, if you liked the chapter/story please write me a review, favorite, or follow! Each one makes my day.**_

 _ **Next time: There is some tension in the Halstead-Lindsay-Price household….**_

 _ **Until Next Time!**_

 _ **-KDanceWriteDream**_


	14. Chapter 14

**While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.**

 *** I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED***

 _ **Thank you so much for your continued support! Sorry this one took a little while to write, school has been crazy. I hope you enjoy it!**_

 **Robbie –**

I have never slept better in my life. These past few days that I have been living in Erin and Jay's apartment have not only given me food and a non-leaking roof over my head, but it has also provided conditions that let me sleep through the night on a nice mattress, with blankets and pillows and anything else a girl could want. It's like being in a movie. The worst part is, though, is that there is a certain time that I have to get up.

A soft hand rests on my shoulder, sparking my brain and waking me up, but I refuse to open my eyes. "Robbie, sweetie, time to wake up." She runs a hand through my hair, thinking that I am still asleep. "Kiddo, time to get up."

I moan, looking at the detective through parted eyes. But when I see her smiling face, I can't help but reveal that I am fully awake. "Morning."

She laughs, "You little trickster, you had me going there for a minute." Through the open door, there is a large amount of clattering coming from what I assume to be the kitchen. Erin widens her eyes, continuing to grin, "Sounds like Jay is trying to make breakfast."

I try to sit up straighter, flinching in pain caused by the pressure of my ribs. Erin immediately jumps to action, moving my pillows higher on the bed, providing more support. This is what makes her special: that second nature that tells her exactly when I need help. I don't think I can say the same about Jay. There is something about him that is different, like he doesn't want me here. I feel as though I can't talk to him, and if I do one wrong thing this will be over for me. That I'll have to go back to my parents, back to that dump in the woods. And maybe it is because of Him, because of my father, that I act this way. I just don't know.

As a reaction to my silence, Erin pulls away from her bent position over my body. "Are you okay, Robbie?"

I tuck my lips into my teeth, "Yeah, I'm fine. Can we eat now?"

Erin nods, "Absolutely." She pushes herself off the bed, and pulls the blankets away from my body, then proceeds to help me stand. I grimace in pain, but together, step by step, with one of Erin's hands around my waist, and the other supporting my left side, we make it into the kitchen. Jay is bent over a griddle, watching pancake batter bubble on the hot surface.

Jay looks up from his task, "Good morning, Robbie, sleep well?" I shrug, gratefully taking Erin's help to get me in the chair. "Erin, do you want to get the syrup out?"

She seems uncomfortable at the tension between Jay and me, but she still goes over to the fridge, and pulls the Sam's Club size bottle of syrup off the shelf. Erin gives Jay a quick kiss, and hands me a plate. "Robbie, today, we are going to head over to the district so Antonio can ask you a few questions about your parents."

I look down at my napkin, which I have started to pick a part. "Do I have to?"

Jay flips a few pancakes down onto my plate, and I pop the top of the syrup open. "Robbie, we talked about this; you are the only person who has insight on their whole operation."

"Why can't you or Hank just ask me the questions? Why can't we just do it here?" I try to ignore the hurt look on Jay's face. I didn't do it on purpose, sometimes things just slip out.

Erin looks from Jay, back to me. "Well, technically, Jay and I are your legal guardians so we can't interview you since there would be room for corruption. And, by those standards, Hank can't do it either because he would be considered family as well. But don't worry, Antonio is amazing, and I'll be there the entire time."

When I was still in the hospital, Erin told me that Hank called in a favor to DCFS. They rushed the foster parent certification requirements for Erin and Jay, so I could go home with them when I was released. That was three days ago, yet I feel like I have been with them forever.

"And you can't catch whoever you're looking for without me?"

The two adults shake their heads, but it is Erin that finally speaks up, "We need your help, Robbie."

I pull the pancakes off my fork, and chew slowly, "Fine."

Erin and Jay visibly relax, taking their own helpings of breakfast. We eat in silence for a moment, but Jay steps away from the table, going over to the opposite counter and grabbing a few orange medication bottles.

"Oh! Jay good catch," he smirks, and starts pouring out the pills, reading the labels before handing me the numerous pills of different shapes and sizes. I turn my lip up at them, already tasting the chalky powder that most of them are coated in. Erin pushes them closer to me, "Robbie, you need to take them, we can't risk you getting sick."

I ignore her for a moment, taking my last bite of pancakes, but finally, I put the pills in my mouth, swallowing them with a glass of milk. "There, done."

Erin smirks, "Wonderful, now let's get you dressed and ready to go to the district."

A half hour later, the three of us are in the Erin's car. Erin is, of course, driving. I watch as the buildings of Chicago, the place I have lived my entire life, blur past us. It's amazing. These places have been here for hundreds of years, and though I have only been alive for eleven, I have seen barely any of them. Very rarely do I venture into the heart of the city. It was a forbidden place, with too many people and police officers.

Ironic, isn't it? My parents were always worried about the police finding out, and here I am, living with two cops, going into the city.

It doesn't take long for us to pull up to a brick building, Erin sliding the gear into park. There is a light gray, brick, arch with _21_ _st_ _District_ engraved in it. I move to unbuckle my seatbelt, but Erin and Jay turn around in their seats. "When we get up there, Robbie, the entire team will most likely be up there."

"Will Hank be up there?" I've only seen Hank once since I left the hospital, and, to be completely honest, I miss him. There is something special about him. Something that nobody has ever shown me before. He's different from Erin in the fact that he doesn't dance around the problems or the issues. He doesn't sugar coat things. I will always be grateful to Erin for saving me from that house, but it was Hank who asked me point blank who hit me. No one ever asked me like that before. It was strangely refreshing. Erin is lucky to have him.

"He said he wouldn't miss it."

Satisfied with her answer, I open my car door, slowly trying to get down. It doesn't work. Erin rushes from the driver seat to grab my arm, and helping me lower myself to the pavement. She holds me the same way she has been doing the same morning, leading me carefully to the entrance of the building. Jay holds the door open for us, revealing the controlled chaos inside.

There are uniformed police officers rushing around, and I suddenly feel really small. I tense up, and Erin can sense that. She pulls me closer to her side, and points to a staircase in the corner of the room. Jay guides the way, every once in a while, saying hello to an officer.

"Erin!" The call comes from a large front desk, an older woman dressed in a white shirt, covered with numerous medals and badges. Her hair is graying, but she still has a vibrant face, with happiness shining behind her eyes.

Erin bends down next to me, and points over to the desk, "That's Sergeant Platt, she's a really good friend of Hank's. Do you want to go say hello?" I just shrug, but she takes that as a yes, weaving us in and out of the other adults.

Jay and Erin greet her, "Morning, Serge."

Sergeant Platt comes out from behind the counter, ignoring my foster parents, "You must be Robbie." I feel the heat rise to my face as I nod. "I've heard quite a bit about you."

Erin moves her arm further up on my shoulders, "Antonio just wanted to ask her a few questions about the case."

She tilts her head in a way that she knows everything that is about to happen, "Well, listen, I know you probably just want to get this over with, but, if you ever need someone to entertain you, or get away from these two lovebirds," she gives a pointed look to Erin and Jay, "You come right over here and hang out with me, okay?"

The corners of my mouth turn upwards, "Okay. Thank you," she reaches over to me, and rests the cup of her hand on my cheek. I feel my heart quicken, but before I can do anything, she pulls it away, laying it back on the counter.

We continue to move up the stairs, walking slowly together until we reach a locked gate. Jay slides his palm on top of a scanner, his fingers being separated by little spokes. There is a faint buzz, and then the sound of the gate unlocking.

The gate opens to reveal a large, open room, with desks lining the walls. Some men dressed in regular street clothes are sitting at them, but others wander from one end of the room to the other. Papers are scattered among each of the desks, filing cabinets open but abandoned. At the far end of the room, there is an office with the door closed, and the shades drawn.

"Hey, hey!" One younger male stands from his desk, coming over to Jay and grasping his hand, "Look who finally came back!"

Jay pulls him into a hug, "Adam, good to see you," Erin guides me to a chair, and sits me down, and I for one am finally grateful to rest my aching body. She gives 'Adam' the same type of hug Jay did, laughing about him calling her old.

The rest of the men start migrating towards us, well, more towards Erin and Jay. I try my best to remain invisible in the corner chair. One is referred to as 'Atwater' while another is called 'Antonio,' the man who is supposed to be questioning me.

After about five minutes of the adults catching up, Erin turns back to me, "Guys, this is Robbie. Robbie, this is the team." I offer a meek wave as they all go through their names again. They seem to be staring, until another older man with greasy black hair and a purple beanie steps up to the introductions. Erin smile widens, "Al! This is Robbie, Robbie, this is Alvin Olinsky."

"Ah, Robbie," he stretches out his hand, "I've heard a lot about you."

I snort, "That seems to be the pattern around here."

Erin comes back over to me, placing her hand on my shoulder, "Is Hank in his office?"

Before anyone has a chance to answer, a familiar voice reaches my ears, "Who's asking?" I look up at Erin, already getting excited as the other detectives split into two groups, revealing Hank. "Oh! Well look who is here." He comes up to Erin, giving her a small hug, and then stands in front of me, his hands shoved into his pockets. "How are you feeling, kid?"

I bite my lip, "A little better, I guess."

He reaches out to me, and I grab his hand, letting him help me stand. Erin guides me with her hand on the small of my back, her support silent, but still there. "I was beginning to wonder when you guys were going to come see me."

"We were waiting until Robbie got back on her feet, huh kiddo?" I nod in agreement, looking at Hank, who's eyes are flicking between the different members of his teams.

He goes over to Antonio. "Well, Antonio, let's get this over with so Robbie can get home and rest." Hank claps him on his shoulder, just as Antonio grabs a yellow notepad and a tablet.

Erin juts her chin toward a type of break room, "Let's go in here."

When Antonio agrees, Erin and I follow him to a table facing a counter and various appliances. The male detective closes the door behind him, blocking us out from the world of Hank, and Jay, and District 21. He leans back in his chair, poising his pen on top of the paper.

"So, Robbie, I'm just going to ask you a few questions about your parents and hopefully that will be all. Sound good?" I glance over at Erin, her hand on top of mine, and nod. "Alright, let's start with your parents' names. Our sources have told us he also goes by Gregor Tucker, but he is now Sean Price. Is there any other names that you think might be associated with him?"

My stomach churns; all of these things that they know about my father that I wouldn't have known otherwise. "No, I don't think so."

Antonio doesn't write anything down. "Alright. What about your mom? What name does she go by?"

I hang my head, "Alicia. Alicia Price."

"They used the same last name?"

I shrug, "I guess so. Price is on all of my school forms, too."

Finally, he scribbles something down. "Have you ever seen them buying or selling any sort of drugs? What about using?"

I scoff, "There wasn't a time when they weren't high."

"Buying? Selling?"

I rack my brain, praying that I will be of some help. "I mean, there were always people coming in and out."

Finally, he seems excited about something. He pulls the tablet from the other side of the table, unlocking to reveal an array of different photos. "Do you recognize any of these people?"

I take the tablet from him with shaking hands, looking at about six different pictures, two girls, four boys. I don't have to look at them for very long before my eyes freeze on two of the people. I can't move, I can't even say anything to confirm that I do, in fact, recognize them.

"Take your time, Robbie, you're doing great." Erin says, rubbing my back.

I place the tablet on Antonio's side, "Number 2 and number 4."

He writes something down. "What about them, Robbie?"

I put the tip of my thumb in my mouth, biting down hard on my fingernail. The male detective swims in front of my face, dancing in my tearing eyes. "They're… they're my parents' friends. They were always over the house. They barely ever left."

 _ **I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Hopefully I can update relatively soon. If you liked the chapter, please review, favorite, and/or follow - your support means everything to me and helps me to update faster. Thanks for reading!**_

 _ **Until Next Time,**_

 _ **KDanceWriteDream**_


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